27 March 2008

Nanofiction 02

The briefcase lay threadbare at his side. He’d carried it for five years, locked, the code forgotten until now. Inside, his daughter’s painting: a gift from her first day at school. Smudges, fingerprints, laughter; her utter beauty finally remembered. Tear-streaked face suddenly static; he noticed the address on the back.


the dent said...

I thought it would be his daughter in the suitcase.

oddlyhewn@googlemail.com said...

You're scary you know that! ;)

*jots down idea for future*