I was right

She wasn’t going to say yes.  I knew it.

But I had to ask, didn’t i?

I went down to the antique jeweller at the end of Fraser Street.  You know the old run down place covered in graffiti. It was a wonder it had survived at all, with places going down each week.

We had been there before, but I told her there was something she really had to see.

The bell tinkled as we went in.

The place was cramped with all sorts of knickknacks; dusty books; a wall full of fancy toasters from days bygone.  I wondered if the old guy ever sold anything – or whether this was merely an exhibition of his life’s work.

“Through here” I said, as I took her by the hand leading up the darkened staircase to the rooftop.  The daylight outside was blinding – but she saw the small gilded black box.

I was right.

 

153 words
Written for: Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers
123rd Challenge
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Grant-Sud. Thank you Grand-Sud for our photo prompt!
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