Short Stories Based on Prompts

Prompt 1: The old (Fill in the blank)

     There was an old Hobo who slept in the ally behind Wendy's. I met him once and he told me his story.
     "I was a brave, lovable young man back in the day. I didn't always smell like old people and chicken nuggets." He had told me. "I had money and friends. I had a job and a wife." By the time he had said this I was already sitting on a crate listening to him.
     "I had a lovely job. I woke at the old car wash. It's closed now, but it was vibrant. All the colors and people I saw.
     "The best moment of my days working there is when I first met my wonderful wife. Her name was Marie Hopes. She and her friends were driving in a messy rain storm the night before and needed their cars washed." The hobo smiled after he said this. I did remember seeing the broken down car wash, it made it hard to look at it the same.
     The hobo continued,
"It was love at first sight. She sat and talked to me while I washed the cars. Her friends were more interested in Jim, but she just talked to me. A year later I quit my job at the car wash and got married to Marie.
     "We honey mooned in Italy and we... Well you know. After we got back I tried to look for another job. Only finding that the only job hiring was a small office job.
     "Marie and I lived wonderfully for nine years. I was just turning fourth when the crisis happened ." Years had filled his eyes.
     " Marie started to get horrible head aches. When I took her to the hospital a week later I found that she had a brain tumor. For a month I stayed home from work to care for her. Eventually I got fired, but I didn't care. I stayed at the bed side until the very end. "
     "I'm so sorry." I had told him, but he just continued the story.
     "One night her breathing slowed down one her face went from pained to a calmed, relaxed face. That's when I knew...That's when I knew she left me."
     I had cried the night after I met him. I cried for his pain. I cried for his sorrow. I cried for not being able to help him.
     Then much, much later, almost an entire year later, I went back, but he was gone.
     "Poor man died a few weeks ago." The Woman behind the counter said. I then smiled. I knew then that he was with her. The man, the poor hobo, was with Marie. He was with his love, and he would be for eternity.

Write your own story to the prompt in the description.
456 words.
Written by: Setta