Wedding Photograph

He never did know who the father was.

It just seemed right. All that sadness, all that pain. It all deserved a happy ending.

His girl. His gorgeous four-year old bundle of bossiness.

She tugged at his arm. “Daddy! Come on!”

She dragged him into the steamy, teatime kitchen behind the shop. She’d been helping Glad with the housework. Picking up the bright yellow duster she reached for the tiny framed wedding photograph. The silver rose petals of its frame were bright against the grainy grey of the picture. Young and hopeful, Gladys had her arm hooked through Harry’s uniformed arm.

“Look daddy.” She held up the photograph. “I’m helping. Cleaning for you and Mummy!”

About me

This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)