Johnny’s a Hotel Manager, and every day I pass in front of his hotel.
We have our own secret code.
We take the week of the year as a base and add a letter of the alphabet.
As he knows what time I pass, he arranges to flash on and off some lights in the rooms facing the street.
The guests just think it’s a test.
Last week he spelt out ‘adore’ with 26+1, 26+4 etc from Monday to Friday.
I’m excited to discover this morning’s letter, but as I pass, I see three sets of lights, 26+19, 26+15, 26+19.
My heart skips a beat.
I call him, as I double back at the next roundabout.
It goes to voicemail.
As I get nearer, I see armed policemen falling out of unmarked vans, and the entrance cordoned off.
I abandon my car in the middle of the road and run to the nearest policeman.
“They’ve taken hostages Madam.”
I bend in two and eject my breakfast.
The idea of Sunday Photo Fiction is to write a story with the photo as a prompt in around 200 words. The photo doesn’t have to be centre stage.