“But you’ve the whole house to write in,” Rex said, loading a tray with wine and olives. “Better than a shed at the end of the garden.” His hand was already on the back door, pushing it open.
“A shed with a view of the sea and a bed,” Ingrid said, but he was already gone.
She heard a wail start across the hall. “Mum, Flora pinched me!” A door slammed. “Mum. Tell her.” The children’s argument spilled into the kitchen where Ingrid stood at the window watching Rex’s retreating back.
“A quiet shed,” she whispered, and turned to her girls.
For those who don’t know how Friday Fictioneers works, this picture (this time supplied by Björn Rudberg) is our inspiration for our weekly online writing group hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Click here to read other people’s amazing stories or to join in. And please comment below with any suggestions for improvement on mine.