Backbone

 

 

Photo credit : Sandra Crook

“Oh, that?” The tour guide mopped his brow with his sleeve. “Those are the remnants of the landslide last year when the earthquake struck. Terrible times for this place!”

“I can imagine”, the traveler mumbled, “but hey, how come nothing happened to these little homes here?”

“Isn’t that what always happens, sir?”, mused the guide, “The things we keep running after disappear at the slightest distress, but the ones that we neglect become our backbone through the difficult times.”

I wonder if he’s talking about mountains and homes or people, thought the traveler to himself.

© 2015 Ankita Kala

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This week’s entry for Friday Fictioneers.