The Last Time I Saw You; Flash Fiction As Memoir of Uncle George who Left This Earth at Age 30

Cigarette in hand, leather vest, your back was to me as you walked away.  My eyes were focused on your biker motorcycle boots.  No one knew it, not even you, but you were beginning your walk into eternity. Now I know why I had to have those distressed black  Frye motorcycle boots so badly.

My Uncle George's Grave, Designed by his Brother, Tom, and Artist, who is now buried near him.