c.j.c

It was a misty night as Charlie John Christopher sat in front of the burning red fire, bought from a local carpenters shop down Browns street. He looked at a photo album that was special to him and his family; it made him sad and happy at the same time as he remembered all the special memories. He had been sending lots of post cards to his wife Julia and his six year old daughter Jenny. Day by day he sits ancsusly taping his feet, waiting for a letter. Then one day an unusual looking envelope slid under the door, he took a deep breath as he knelt down to pick it up, he missed Julia and Jenny more and more as he hoped that it was a reply from them.