It was easy to get lost in Grandpa Pops craggy visage. With so many features to explore it was hard not to stare aimlessly as if there was nothing better to do.
His only concession to fashion was his hat which sat perfectly and permanently balanced on top of his head.
I’d had to write a letter to meet him. A real letter with an envelope and a stamp.
When I’d enquired about telephone, email, or Facebook his agent had just laughed.
I surfaced from my reverie and remembered why I was here.
“I was hoping you might teach me, Mr Pops.”
“Oh you did, did you … ,” his voice was surprisingly melodic.
He pulled a pocket watch from his jacket and suspended it from his left hand and it started to sway slowly from side to side, occasionally catching a thin sliver of sunlight that filtered through the closed blinds.
“Now … Just listen … to the sound of my voice.”
Somehow there was nothing else I wanted to do more, and I just let myself go.
Deeper and deeper.
I was relieved to discover that the Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner weekly challenge was back after a short pause. I’d missed it and it’s a lovely challenge indeed!