Voyages, trips, journeys. Why did everyone think they were good things? Couldn’t things just stay the same? Emily looked at Ben sitting next to her on the couch. He took her hand gently.
“Don’t worry Emily. Don’t be sad, it’ll be okay.” He said but it just made her more upset.
“I don’t want to go I’ll miss you too much.” She said between sniffles.
Emily’s mum walked in. “Emily time to get in the car. It’s two weeks at camp, not death row!” She said pointing to the door. It was going to be a long two weeks.
Originally written in response to Friday Fictioneers.
Using the above image tell a story in 100 words or less.