It was banged up.
Badly. Faded, too. But it was original, and she just couldn't bring
herself to tear it down at the moment. The wall held stories too
precious to destroy.
A young couple
dancing, celebrating their new wedding bliss. The first day home from
the hospital. Her first steps. Celebrating straight A's on the report
card. And Junior prom, a bundle of nerves, anxiety, and pure
unadulterated joy. The day the acceptance letter came. The day she
brought him home, and they knew she had found the one.
When her husband
came in later, he found her carefully cutting a large swath of the
wall paper. “What are you doing,” he asked.
She just smiled at
him and turned back to her work, saying, “Preserving the stories,
dear.”
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I forgot to add that I was actually really excited when I saw the photo prompt. My wife is addicted to housing rehab (her favorite "housing show" is Rehab Addict), so I was imagining her when I started writing. She loves old houses for the stories, and I can see her using the wall paper as a piece of art to base the room decor.
_________________________________________________________
I forgot to add that I was actually really excited when I saw the photo prompt. My wife is addicted to housing rehab (her favorite "housing show" is Rehab Addict), so I was imagining her when I started writing. She loves old houses for the stories, and I can see her using the wall paper as a piece of art to base the room decor.
