From tiny pods of peas to his massive orange pumpkins, he always won prizes at the annual produce show. Even after his marriage ended in acrimonious circumstances, he carried on, seemingly unbothered.
At least, so we thought.
One winter’s night he stood before a bonfire with a handful of photographs. He gazed at one then threw it into the flames. Another, then another until none remained. Then he retired to bed and fell asleep, never again to wake.
Next year there’ll be a special award at the produce show in honour of the man none of us really knew.
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers and to Connie Gayer for her photo of Russell!