Up in Smoke

This post is in the response to Friday Fictioneers.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger BultotPHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot


My dad spent his entire working life for that company. I remember him getting up at 4:30 in the morning, fixing his own pot of coffee and smoking that first cigarette.

He spent between eight and ten hours a day at his rolling machine with a 17 minute break before lunch and a thirteen minute break in the afternoon. For the life of me I could never figure out how they arrived at those exact break periods.

The cancer killed him before he could retire. All his dreams up in smoke.

The company closed the plant four years ago.



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