Winter of Life

People stopped by to look at the lovely flowers. Some offered to buy. He would indulge in small chat, and then, politely inform them that it was not a plant nursery.

The expanse of the almost empty house attracted attention. Neither furniture nor human beings were in visible range. He never offered water or coffee to any visitor. The mustard yellow sweater was a signature style, which perplexed many, in the not-so-cold South Indian winter.

Mrs. Iyer could not contain her curiosity.

“Are you putting the house on sale? It appears to have been vacated recently.”

“Not recently. The humans I tended to all my life, have found their abode abroad. The flowers stay with me, but do not live long. The house is the last thing that I have left to sell.”

“What are you waiting for?”

“A buyer, who offers to restore the lost spirit to this house.”

 

(150 words)

FFAWC by Priceless Joy

13 thoughts on “Winter of Life

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