PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
I hate to move. Oh, if I could just be a minimalist instead of a forty year old with a teenager’s emotional attachment to junk. If I wasn’t so lazy I’d photograph that monstrous prom mum; put it in an album, and leave another gaudy offering in the landfill.
I museum heartbreak in little dusty coffins so crumbled I can’t even read the ink headstones peeking out among my shoes. Wait! I remember that necklace. It was a fourteen year old’s equivalent to a promise ring. David was so cute. Hmmm, with a little better packing it would all fit.