The stool in front of the spinet remained unused; the ivory keys untouched. Each day the instrument was lovingly dusted by the faithful servant in the hopes that her young charge would return. The mother stared unseeingly through the window, thinking of the day her beloved daughter had flounced out of the room on the arm of her young beau. They had warned her he was a scroundrel who would not be able to support her. She had laughed, claiming “love would find a way”. They had searched for them but to no avail. Now they waited for the inevitable.
What do you think will be the inevitable?
© Colline Kook-Chun, 2016
(This post was inspired by Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. The challenge asks for bloggers to write a story in 100 words or less in response to the photo prompt.)