It’s the same everyday. Uncle Jim would walk out the door with his 1960’s suitcase and old man cap. Lock the door and turn the knob twice, look around to make sure the road is clear, then turn the knob a third time. I always wondered why he did that, grandma says, “that’s just his way of doing things”.
He’d walk across the street, say hello to grandma, hand me a sweet and ruffle my hair with the biggest smile on his face while I pretend to drown myself In a book. He’d return to his side of the street, wipe the bicycle seat three times, seat on it and head to wherever he goes off to every morning.
Uncle Jim was a man of repetition and that baffled me. He’d always do the same things a specific number of times and I asked Grandma why, as usual, she said “that’s just his way of doing things”. I’ve resolved to accept Grandma’s answer until I can come up with a better one myself through mere observation.
Word count: 175. This story is in response to Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers photo prompt challenge. Each week, we are given a photo prompt and we’re to write a 150 (+/- 25) word story surrounding the picture. This week’s image is courtesy of Pixabay.