Frank cursed quietly under his breath as he placed the handset back into its cradle. ‘A blown engine out on the Little Williams road.’
‘Oh, no, Frank, not again. Isn’t there anyone else who could go?’ Missy protested.
His wife knew fine well there wasn’t: his was the only pick-up truck for 100 miles.
‘Don’t wait up, love,’ he said. ‘It’s at least a two hour job, longer if they need towed into Greenburg.’
Missy had no intention of waiting up. Mr Brown from across the street had played his part. She now had to play hers and slip into something more comfortable before he arrived.
These words form this my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.