I have been here all day, for the last three days, holding an umbrella for him, atop this thirsty hill.
He wants to shoot, he says. Instead, he has been shooting me, every day, with an empty plate, but for thick rice and salt in the evenings.
My parents had promised, I would help, as I knew the geography all too well. Besides, he is an old ‘friend’, I, a benevolent soul.
Frankly, I was forced to contemplate schemes for his final un-beautiful goodbye.
Only, he bought me back with the promise of a lead role in his wilderness series.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Thanks dear Rochelle for hosting the challenge.
PHOTO PROMPT © Danny Bowman