Photo Prompt © Dale Rogerson
Over the Fence
“I don’t know what those things are called, do I? I’m not a gardener. No, definitely not. I mean it looks okay, although some veg is more productive, as long as it’s something I like. You know, like toms, they are nice. I’m not keen on the green stuff though.”
“Are you talking to yourself?”
“What, me?”
“Yes, you!”
“Well, I suppose so… and what’s wrong with that?”
“Nothing, I guess.”
(silence)
“Are you a little lonely, perhaps?”
“No.”
“Really?”
“No.”
(silence)
“Look, I’m busy. Okay?
“You don’t want to tell me what you’re doing?”
(muttering)
“Alright, I’ll tell you…”
~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers
Genre: Memoir
Word Count: 100
luna's on line 
I guess it’s okay to tell them.
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Maybe, maybe not. I just thought this could stay a mystery though! 😉
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Good idea
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😉
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😍
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Sounds like the start of a beautiful friendship
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Now there’s a thought… 🤔maybe
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How ever did she manage to poke her head through that fence slat?
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That’s a good question… maybe she’s a fairy? No? 🤣
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This is droll. 🙂
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But of course… 😉
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the do hickeys
over by them thing a me bobs
thats so brown mill bandish
i used to look for the single
thing a me bob by the beatles
thing was they never recoreded it
ooof!
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