“Oh what a tacky bench,” Violet complained to her husband Wes. “Who would put such an outrageously coloured bench in Hewitt Park. We have to walk by it when we take Snuggles for his walk.”
“Meow,” Snuggles said, struggling in his harness and leash.
Wes sighed as his wife continued to moan about the red bench. The bench was in an ideal spot for him to seat his aching bones and red was his favourite colour.
“Oh my, Wes! Why are you sitting on that hideous bench. I was just saying what an eye-sore it is.”
“I’m eighty-four-years old Violet and the red bench is a perfect place to rest.” Snuggles meowed and sat on the bench in agreement.
Violet was starting to complain when she noticed Snuggles sitting on a plaque on the bench seat.
Wes moved Snuggles and both he and Violet read the plaque which said: ” In honour of our Grandson, Corperal Jonathan Crest, who died under enemy fire in Afhganistan. Lest We Not Forget.”
Violet sniffed and her eyes went wide as she read the plaque.
“Pretty good reason to have a red bench here, don’t you think Violet?” Wes said.
Violet was speechless.
Thanks to Priceless Joy for hosting Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.
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