Mrs. Crowder Was Wrong
This post is written for Sunday Photo Fiction. My story follows the picture prompt below.
The brick apartment building stands by itself, surrounded by snow-covered fields and cars that are covered with the heavy stuff, in a sparsely populated area of the decaying city. Inside one of the run down apartments a stubby young white man sits in a cluttered desk reading a book.
His long shoulder length hair falls nearly to the table as he bends down to read from the book. The man’s name is George and the volume he is reading is “Making Bombs for Dummies.” He reads over the list of “ingredients” and is lacking just one item. He knows where to find this special item.
Crossing the hallway to Mrs. Crowder’s apartment he knocks gently on the door. He knows she will look through the peep hole and recognize him. He has a reputation as a “kook” anyway so nothing should surprise her anyway. She will be one of the people who would later say “he was the nicest man around, and I can’t think of him doing anything like that.”
As she opens the door he says, “Mrs. Crowder, may I please borrow your pressure cooker.”