A Hot-dog called Hope

(PHOTO CREDIT: Jean L. Hays)

The Red Mtn Market & Deli, was cluttered, crowded and cramped. A smudged, smeared and smelly poster tacked onto the wall abutting the main entrance proudly promised – in faded letters – everything from hot dogs to hope. While Venky religiously avoided hotdogs, even a sudden interest in religion would not suffice to hope.

His decision to enter the building was, if not whimsical, unplanned. Unable to quieten down an annoyingly restless mind, he sought solace in distraction.

“How much for a pound of hope?” he asked the old saleswoman.

“No price is steep enough Sir” came the response.

(Word Count: 99)

This story was written as part of the FRIDAY FICTIONEERS challenge, more about which may be found HERE

 For the complete list of entries, please click HERE