Her fingers paused and flattened on the ridged wood of the screen door. A warm breeze flowed over her fingers, soft promise of the summer day. Springs screeched as she pushed through, concrete floor chill under her bare feet.
Four steps right, toward the slap of wave on shoreline. She dropped onto the rough canvas of the chair’s cushions, pulling her feet up to warm them.
The door screeched. A hot coffee cup is placed in her hand. Click of multiple toenails is followed by a rank, wet tongue near her other hand.
Husband and pup were here, too.
© Liz Husebye Hartmann (2017)
Carrot Ranch Prompt (11/07/2107): In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story with a chair on a porch. Why is it there, and what might it mean? Think about using it as a prop or the main thrust of your story.