Untitled ficlet
Just a random ficlet that's come from chatting with Shane's mun right now...
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“Of course,” Rick nods in understanding, sliding the photographs back into the manilla envelope, “we all do things that we’re not proud of sometimes. We all have mouths to feed, whether they are our own, or our family’s.”
He chews on the inside of his lower lip and gives the packet back to Shane. He would rather be able to wipe the memory of those images from his mind, though he has seen worse, much worse, even in the short time they’ve been out of the academy.
Patting his friend on the back he starts to walk away. Lori gave birth to their son not so long ago, he never realised just how much a baby required. Everything costs money.
“You have too?” Shane’s voice, though low with shame, is curious too.
“I have….” He’ll answer if Shane pushes the point, but he knows he won’t, he’s too good a friend to ask for something that he knows Rick doesn’t want to give.
It’s not the same as posing for a photoshoot in distasteful clothing, but Rick gets a lump of guilt in his throat every time he thinks of his grandma. The urn was an antique though; it paid for the crib and Christening clothes for Carl. How could he have known that a stray dog would dig up and relieve itself where he had buried her ashes?
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“Of course,” Rick nods in understanding, sliding the photographs back into the manilla envelope, “we all do things that we’re not proud of sometimes. We all have mouths to feed, whether they are our own, or our family’s.”
He chews on the inside of his lower lip and gives the packet back to Shane. He would rather be able to wipe the memory of those images from his mind, though he has seen worse, much worse, even in the short time they’ve been out of the academy.
Patting his friend on the back he starts to walk away. Lori gave birth to their son not so long ago, he never realised just how much a baby required. Everything costs money.
“You have too?” Shane’s voice, though low with shame, is curious too.
“I have….” He’ll answer if Shane pushes the point, but he knows he won’t, he’s too good a friend to ask for something that he knows Rick doesn’t want to give.
It’s not the same as posing for a photoshoot in distasteful clothing, but Rick gets a lump of guilt in his throat every time he thinks of his grandma. The urn was an antique though; it paid for the crib and Christening clothes for Carl. How could he have known that a stray dog would dig up and relieve itself where he had buried her ashes?
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