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.
27 March 2008
Nanofiction 02
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2 comments:
I thought it would be his daughter in the suitcase.
You're scary you know that! ;)
*jots down idea for future*
x
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