Harold and his wife of almost 50 years, Helena, walked along the outdoor, mezzanine-level walking track that ran around the perimeter of their condominium building. They took this walk this every morning, rain or shine. It was their physical fitness routine and their effort to stay as limber as they could, hoping to stave off the muscle atrophy and bone brittleness of old age as long as they could.
On this particular morning Harold complained of a backache and Helena suggested he take a day off from their daily exercise. But he insisted. And so, as was their routine, dressed in sweats, they went out onto the walking track.
Only five minutes into it, Harold stopped, grabbed his back and, grimacing in pain, fell to his knees. “Call 9-1-1,” he implored his wife. Helena looked up and saw the surveillance camera mounted on the wall to the left of the sign with the running man. She hoped the security people were watching because she didn’t have her mobile phone and refused to leave Harold’s side.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: ENISA.