Saturday, August 21, 2021


The crows lifted off the beeches.

Jake waited at the gate, Blue panting at his feet.

Eventually a figure ambled round the bend and raised a hand.

‘I thought it might be you.’

‘How are you keeping, Jake?’ Sarah asked.

‘So-so. You?’

‘The same. Just been you, the last couple of months?’

‘And Blue and the cattle.’

‘You don’t get lonely?’

‘Some of us are meant to be alone. You know that.’

‘Sometimes I wish it were otherwise.’

‘You’re getting wistful in old age?’

‘I keep wondering if it’s too late for first love?’

‘First love?’

‘For us.’


A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

1 comment:

Margot Kinberg said...

Oh, that's a good one, Rob. Good question if it's ever too late, and I like Jake's oblivion - you did that really effectively.