There’s this book that says get rid of things that don’t make you happy, which was damn near everything in my house. Except for these hiking boots that are nearly as old as me. Gran and I used to camp all the time when we were young, but then just sort of stopped. Life got too busy, I guess. Makes more sense to hike now, anyway; the way I see it, when Death comes, I’ll be ready to go the hell to sleep.
My daughter looked up from the letter and snorted. “He isn’t missing, Mama. He’s taking a hike.”
Friday Fictioneers! (Although it is Wednesday. Forgive me!) Thank you, Rochelle, for the prompt, and the fun opportunity to tell a story in 100 words!
[NOTE: Ending was slightly altered to incorporate helpful feedback from a reader.]