This post is written for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers.
“Good Morning, Julio” I said, placing a new pot of flowers along the others. Julio loved his flowers. Almost as much as he used to love to fight the nasty bulls.
Julio nodded his head in acknowledgement. Julio spends his days outdoors now. A least the sunny ones. His mother Juniata moves him inside when it rains.
“Gracias caballeros,” said a female voice from inside.
“It’s very nice that his mother takes care of him,” said Ed. “She never thought he son would ever be in this condition. So sad, don’t you think?”
Every week we bring new flowers to Julio on our way to the market.
“He looks bright this moment, doesn’t he?” said Ed. “Almost like the old days.”
“Yes, he was a grand el torero. He killed the bulls with style. The ladies liked him.” I replied.
“He was a grand looking boy,” said Ed. “Before the last bull gored him.”
“How old do you think he is?”
“Eighteen or nineteen.”
“Seems a shame.”
I think we will find some fresh fruit at the market this morning. The bull fights start at four this afternoon. There is this new boy I want to see. They say he fights the bulls with much style.