This week’s photo prompt is provided by Yinglan. Thank you Yinglan for our photo prompt!
The cafe was crowded, loud with the clatter of plates, the hum of chatter. Piles of coats were heaped on each oil fired radiator, their mist making the air heavy.
Gramma’s wheelchair was turned to the window, her coffee cup balanced on the arm, raisin bun balanced on that.
‘When I was a girl they were pulled by horses. Such a mess on the road. All over your shoes.’
Sandy looked out at the trolley cars, the silvery ribbons of track. ‘Gramma, you’re old, but you’re not that old.’
The old lady stuck out her bristled chin. ‘Plenty you don’t know about me.’
Stubborn old goat. ‘Go on then, Methuselah. Tell me.’
Gramma turned away from the street, puckered face alight. ‘Oh my girl, I got more to tell you about than than horse apples. First, you gotta promise me something.’
‘You won’t tell your mother.’
Gramma smiled so wide, every one of her opalescent teeth flashed. ‘Now, I opened my first cathouse in the summer of ’08 …’