The Prodigal Son

Photo Prompt: Ceayr

The constant knocking on the door woke her up from her afternoon siesta. She wasn’t expecting anybody not that she was frequently visited. She’d lived alone all these years in that big house. She was always worried that someone would harm her. Her husband was dead and soon after their only son had disappeared overnight in chase of his dreams. She’d only hope that he was alive. She held on to the walking stick, hoping that it would help her defend herself also. “Who’s it?”, she asked. “It is me, Mom” answered a voice as she peered through the peephole.
Word Count: 100
This post is written for Friday Fictioneers for the above picture prompt. 

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