Lite Edge

I couldn’t resist a two-fer this week. Here’s a second story to go with the prompt. It’s that time again! Time to gather around the table and share some juicy tidbits of fiction with the folks of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the lovely and talented Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. You can find other small tales of wonder, and danger at: rochellewisoff.com. Come on out and join us! This week’s photo is loaned to us by : Alica Jamtaas.

wc: 100 exact, including title.

Living on the lite edge

I woke up, groaning as the cricks and crenks of sleeping on concrete bit into my bones. The small storage unit I’d rented didn’t allow overnight stays, so I’d adjusted my schedule. I came in at opening time in the morning, rolled out my bag, and slept until late in the day. Nights, well, I spent those on the streets. There were places to go… truckstops, all-night groceries, even a diner or two.

Today, when I returned, I noticed my unit was standing wide open. The manager was there, hands on hips. He wasn’t happy…

Author’s Note: What I wrote earlier reminded me of watching my own little piece of heaven floating down the Ohio a few years ago during heavy flooding. I had just purchased a used Unibuilt shed and placed it on a little piece of land down near the river (above the 100yr flood levels). It was a little place for me to escape to, where I could work on my writing, art, etc. I kept a few bins of childhood mems there that I inherited as well as all my regalia and ceremonial accrutrements. It was MY place. Anyway, the floods came… and came… and before I could tread water to try to save what I could, my little shed launched itself never to be seen again. I’m sure someone downriver probably caught the shed. After a period of grief, I had a moment to realize how frivolous these “things” were. Nothing that couldn’t be replaced beyond some pictures of a family that I never felt truly a part of. Leant itself to me finding new footing in this existence and a new start freed of obligations that I had inherited.