The walk into town had taken Sam just under an hour. He’d had to push himself pretty hard but his son, David, had been insistent Sam better be there to get picked up at six sharp.
It was now half past eight and Sam was cold, tired and hungry. He didn’t like to consider his son had forgotten about him or changed his mind but not much else made any sense.
He’d left the confusing cell phone at home and had no change to use a pay phone to call David. At nine, he started the long walk back home.
This story was written for the Friday Fictioneers
weekly flash fiction prompt based on a photo by the esteemed hostess, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.