Photo Prompt © Roger Bultot
It was the middle of the day and the middle of the week. Always the same, just like clockwork. Only the obvious tasks. She would remove the slightly drooping flowers on the top few steps. She’d already brought some new ones to freshen it up.
She looked up to the tall windows and beyond, she said a little prayer, closing her eyes.
But then it happened, and so quickly.
She walked back, slipped and tripped.
Her beautiful blooms were held up.
But, oh dear.
Her bloomers were on show, just as the old rabbi appeared.
What a confusion…
Oops, indeed.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers
Genre: Anectdote
Word Count: 100
luna's on line 