It is a few days ago, he has tested the chain, tucking it at nails, of the balcony, from one corner to another one at another corner; few bulbs were dis-functioning, so he has changed them. Her face lightened up as the chain is put on power; the garden is looking heavenly in accumulate golden hue of the bulbs, she releases a breath–deep and soft. It is just few days after fixing the bulb, he has gone for the ever; she looks around–the garden is already welcoming shrubs and seasonal unwanted green. Take care of my…our garden…are his last words.
[Written in Historical Present Tense]
Posted for the Three Line Tales, Week#64