Memories always remain...A Story by SarahA short story I was asked to write after given a picture of an old man standing next to an old building, presumably during the Great Depression.
As Mr. Frank peered into the poster-laden glass of the old diner, his mind flashed with memories of cold, creamy milkshakes and his blonde-haired daughter.
The diner had been a prized possession in the Frank family for over 50 years and was handed down to Mr. Frank at the age of 22, after his father died of polio. He had never felt more proud of himself. He and his bubbly daughter spent every waking hour cooking, cleaning, and socializing with the heavy stream of customers that never left unsatisfied. His diner developed a strong reputation of incredible hospitality and juicy burgers. Mr. Frank and his daughter laughed always and enjoyed life. Then, the city was hit with the worst depression since the 1890's. Their heavy stream of customers slowed to a gentle trickle, and even then they would only stop by for a short while to drink coffee. Eventually, people only meandered by, looking sadly into the vacant restaurant. Mr. Frank was struggling, and his daughter could tell. Although she didn't completely understand the concept of a depression, she could still pick up on her aging fathers' emotions. Children are very good at recognizing things like that.The blonde-haired girls' cheeks began to hollow, and her hip bones jutted out like cliffs on the waters edge. Mr. Frank was losing hair, losing money, losing life. At a last desperate attempt, he sold his cherished diner to his meaty, wealthy landlord who spat when he spoke. Mr. Frank stared into the dark and dusty space where he used to laugh with his daughter all those years ago, beginning to cry. Silently, he continued crying until he was drained dry and his face was crusty with salt. He touched his fingers to the door handle one last time, then resumed his walk down the dirty street, his mind flooded with sorrow and regret. © 2014 SarahAuthor's Note
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Added on October 26, 2014 Last Updated on October 26, 2014 Tags: guilt, regret, short story, depression, 1930's AuthorSarahAboutHi, my name is Sarah and I made an account here to try and experiment with writing, hopefully finding my passion. I love to write and I would greatly appreciate some feedback on my work. Thank you. more..Writing
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