“Are you sure you don’t want us to drive out there?” Beth’s father asked.
“No no dad, I don’t mind picking you and mom up.” Beth answered quickly. The last time her parents drove to see her, they were very irritated due to the traffic at the ferry terminal. They had spent most of the meal complaining and asking, “Why the island, Beth?”.
That phone conversation was ten minutes ago. Now, Beth is cruising down the road toward the one-way bridge connecting the island to the mainland. “You know what to do, right?” She looks into the rear-view-mirror at her daughter, Melody.
“Got it. Keep grandma and grandpa occupied with conversation while we wait for the ferry.”
Beth smiles. That’s my girl.
45 minutes later, with her parents in the car, Beth steers the car toward the terminal. She sighs. At least it’s not as bad as usual.
An hour later, Beth finally exits the ferry terminal and heading toward the house. “Seriously, why did you have to move to the island?” Her mother says suddenly.
I am participating in Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writer, where we write a piece between 100 and 150 words (more or less 25 words) in length inspired by the photo prompt above.