Homeless, by Fliss Zakaszewska

(F.F.F. Website Story)

The van chuntered sedately down the road, my goods and chattels on board. I looked back at the open green door to the flat that had been my home for two years, and sighed.

Fishing around in my handbag, I felt cold metal.

“Here you are.” I handed the keys to the official, said goodbye and turned to walk away, suitcases in tow. That was it; I was homeless – officially.

How long would this last?

I thought of my snug cottage by the sea and smiled. One week and my tenant would be gone. I’d be home soon.


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