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Summary
“I can’t believe we’ve done it,” Hunk says as he swings an arm around Keith’s shoulders. “We’re finally here.” The early morning light reflects off the windows of the little building. It is old and a bit rundown, sorely in need of a lick of paint. It is hard to tell what colour it had been painted originally, whatever it was has faded to a dull and murky brown.“It’s ours,” Keith replies and leans into Hunks side.And it is. The little two-story shop is a culmination of years’ worth of savings, loans, embarrassment, blood, sweat and tears. Keith holds up the key, with a little red tag that says, “Bakery Front Door”, and they admire it for a moment.For Day 8 of Writer's Month; word prompt; colours
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