Wrung dry.

He knew he shouldn’t tinker with the plumbing, fixing some and loosening some.

Was there another way to see her.

“I might engage another for our plumbing. This is the third call in two months.”

“Hmmm ….”

Setting the teacup down he continued, “There must be tradesmen who prohibit employees from indulging in lofty dreams above their station.”

Drakes’ spine stiffened.

There was no doubt what he had to do. He won’t cost Mr Harrison a reliable albeit pompous customer.

His heart warm as a fired-up engine, will learn to cool again.

Abject poverty was no friend of blossoming love.


Thank you Rochelle for hosting the writing event Friday fictiooneers. The rule is to write a 100 word piece in response to the provided picture. Please click the link to visit Rochelle’s blog. It will be worth your while. And click this link to read other stories and write ups.


23 thoughts on “Wrung dry.

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