We lived in Gothic House, seven squeezed in students. My room was the smallest, a cupboard really, barely space for the slatted single bed, but only a tenner a week. I kept my suitcase under the bed, wide open. When I needed anything, I’d sit at one end and roll up the mattress to get to my things. For a really good rummage, I’d drag the whole suitcase into the hall.
Now I wander through my country house, with its marble floors, balconies and double bedrooms, and I wish I could peel the mattress back to those Gothic House days.
Photo prompt © J Hardy Carroll
Another Friday, another fiction. This one’s less ha ha and more wistful aah. Click the link below to see what other Friday Fictioneers did with the prompt, or click here to head over to Rochelle’s place and join in.