I was walking with my best friend Julie along her newly inherited property. “Oh my” I said, “you’re going to have to tear that old barn down”. “Oh no, I would never do that. My grandfather built that with his own hands. ”
“Yes, but” I argued “it’s old. It looks as though the only things holding it up are those square hay bales; no one even uses the square ones anymore.”
That barn may be old but it’s beautiful. It will come down when a strong wind catches it, like my grandfather, its end will be of natural causes.
For more 100 word stories created in response to this picture prompt see Friday Fictioneers.