Everyone on the block knew Victor. He used to work on the Pencove Estate, 200 acres of ornamental gardens, thick forest and water lily-covered lakes. It was his life. A bust hip then saw that life confined to his ground floor apartment, an arthritic dog and a single window box.
One hot summer’s day he invited me in for a brew and a game of dominoes.
‘Don’t you miss the estate,’ I asked.
He smiled and passed me a bottle of ice-cold beer.
‘Sure, I’ve nowhere to bury the bodies anymore’ he laughed.
I laughed too. Anybody would have. Anybody.
These words form this my entry into this week’s Friday Fictioneers photo prompt challenge.