a flash-fiction piece
Dad had me follow him into his attic. I thought it was to stop him falling but he seemed agile enough. He turned on the light and held his arms outstretched.
“One day,” he said, “all this will be yours!”
I surveyed the rubbish: busted furniture, piles of magazines, even an old toilet seat. “Daft old goat,” I thought.
The next week, he asked me up there again. Had he forgotten? He’s losing it, for sure.
But this time the attic was empty. “I’m building a model of New York City,” he explained. The old man still had dreams.
In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story about growing older. It can be humorous, dark or poignant. It can be true or total fiction. It can be fine wine or an old fossil. Go where the prompt leads!