In the queue
WRITING PROMPT NO. 234
The crowd gathered on the platform at the top of the mountain as the fog began to fill the view.
Harry felt for his wife’s hand and held it tight curling his fingers around hers. The sun became a brilliant white orb filtered by the condensing water vapour. More people joined the queue, chatting, noting where their children were, standing back from the edge. Lilian looked around her.
“It’s busy here today,” she said nodding her head at the gathering crowd.
“Always busy in the summer,” said Harry. “Don’t worry. I’ve got you.”
Lilian smiled and lifted their entwined fingers to her lips and kissed them. Her white hair glowed in the soft light behind her. She tied it up every morning in a loose bun, pinning the ponytail around and around with several grips until she was satisfied it wouldn’t move. After breakfast she always applied a slick of red lipstick, her favourite shade called In the Red. The arthritis in her fingers was twisting and stiffening the joints in her fingers.
“Too tight, Harry,” she said.
“Sorry,” said Harry loosening his grip.
“It’s okay. My hands are sore today. Worse than usual.”
“Maybe its the damp here,” he said.
“Yes,” said Lilian. “Maybe,” as she placed her hand back in his. “Maybe.”
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