I have a small piece published in this week’s Ad Hoc Fiction weekly ebook. https://adhocfiction.com/read/#FlashEbook. You can vote for your favourite, with a prize for the winner (but I’m not allowed to tell you which one is mine… yet)
Didn’t win, so here it is…
“It’s a fishing trip, Grandpa. Don’t you think you’re overdressed?”
He was a caricature, I thought, without seeing the irony. I cringed at the mental image of us getting on the bus together.
He always pulled his socks up. On this occasion they were green and woollen. He never let them slip. No point in wearing them if you don’t use them properly, he always said. This wasn’t a discussion, it was a lesson.
His shorts stopped at the knee, never above or below. It was something to do with proper pockets. That was something else he’d say. Of course, there was always a chance that there was a paper bag of humbugs lurking near the bottom.
His boots were brown, leather, creased, worn. Almost like his face was reflected in them. New boots are unproven boots, he boomed. One of us could still walk the next day.