Word count: 100
Mr. Briggs loved the old girl but now it was time to let her go. He’d polished her fenders with care, attached the poppy just so and spit-licked the spotlight shiny.
Later, he watched from the other side of the barrier as she passed by, tears brimming, and saluted with one briny hand. Mr. Briggs lingered long after the crowds had dispersed, staring down the road with droopy, rheumy eyes.
He tugged a handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose loudly before turning away. Perhaps he’d stop at the newsagent and pick up some chicken noodle soup for dinner.