Agnes watched as Henry continued digging up the backyard.
It was boiling hot outside and he had been going at it for over
an hour now. She grimaced when she saw the untouched glass
of ice cold lemonade on the table. What was he trying to prove? That he was
still fit as a fiddle at his age? What good would that do her if he
were to keel over?
Sighing, she sat went back into the air conditioned house.
When he decided to call it a day and come inside, a nice hot meal
would be waiting for him.
Word count: exactly, 100
This was written in response to This is a Friday Fictioneers Prompt. The photo is courtesy of Connie Gayer.