This is for Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers. I looked at this picture for days and thought I wasn’t going to get anything from it at all, not being a car person. So that’s what I wrote about.
PHOTO PROMPT © Al Forbes
She trailed behind him like a ghost. Nobody noticed her, least of all him. They were all too intent on touching windscreens and stroking paintwork. All she heard were the oohs and aahs of admiration, envy sometimes and the jargon of car language she didn’t understand and didn’t want to.
He’d dragged her to the vintage car show, said she’d love it. Because he did. She watched him move through the crowd, peering in every direction except behind to check she was still there. Well, when he did, she wouldn’t be. There was a train home in ten minutes.