Fiction Friday 19 Oct

This Week's Theme: Use this quote as the spark for anything you want. What happens when a character, while cleaning out a house before moving out, finds a roll of film? Frank lifted the last box to the bed of the huge twenty-seven foot rider truck and exhaled a steamy hot sigh of relief. He hated moving. He had only been in this house for about 2 years but the rent was too much and he didn't like the feel of the place. It was an old turn of the century house. Not this century mind you, last century. It was a collasal structure with white washed wood siding. The whole place felt drafty and it seemed the house was missing space in the floorplan. He thought it was a great house when Cindy and him had moved in. They had been extremely happy with the hard wood floors and the large rooms. But it didn't last long. Six months after they moved in Cindy had left. Not much of an explanation. She just grew more and more distracted. Like she was itching to get away. Then one day Frank came home from work and all her stuff was gone. There was a plate of dinner in foil in the oven and a note on the dining table saying she just didn't feel at home with Frank. Frank got over it, but still didn't really understand. That was a year and a half ago though. Frank had moved on but today was moving day. He was glad to be dropping the house now. The last memory could be wiped away and he could truely start fresh. Looking at the truck full of furniture and boxes Frank couldn't help but notice how his life could be captured in such a small space. The haphazzard stacking of boxes, furniture and knick knacks matched his life. Frank went back for one final sweep of the house. Looking for any lost treasures. Looking for any piece of his life left behind. He took and empty box and went along the whole house picking up stray envelopes. He had forgotten the towels hanging in one of the bathrooms. In the master bedroom closet he found an old roll of film. He was puzzled as the last film camera he owned had broken some three years before. Frank rolled it over between his fingers and shrugged his shoulders. It must be from the former tenant. Frank fought a little with himself as he was curoious what was on it, but felt like he was invading someone's privacy. He finally determined that the only way for him to find the owners was to develop it and the pictures might give him some idea of who it belonged to. He dropped the film off at a pharmacy with developing on his way to the new place. Frank was moving into a small apartment. it was Well within his means. He was after the community and friends he would make. Being the single guy in the large house did nothing for meeting the people next door. He was vainly hoping that the apartment co-residents would share a form of solidarity and he would have someone to talk to. Even if just occasionally. He spent the rest of the day moving in and unpacking what he could. He had to drop off all of the never used stuff at a rental storage place. Here he was compartmentalizing a part of his history. By the time he came back and opened it up, he would probably have forgotten completely all what was in here. Frank stopped back after dropping off the truck to pick up the pictures. It was a sizable sheaf of pictures and he paid some eleven dollars for it. He thought the clerk had looked at him accusingly as he left the store. Somehow the clerk knew the pictures weren't his. He got to his car peeled back the top of the envelope and lost himself in the pictures. They were all well focused and almost professional quality of himself and cindy entangled on top of his bed. He went through all of them and in at least half Cindy was looking directly at the unknown photographer...
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