Dad was always mysterious.
Mother quarreled with him over his secretive lifestyle. However, he never changed his ways. He would spend hours in our library, buried under piles of books. He never seemed to read them, rather he just skimmed through. Mother had developed a resentment towards books and did not step inside the library, and I simply wasn’t allowed there. One day, while dad was away on a trip, I snuck in. I wore his glasses and began going through his books. It was then I understood his obsession. The glasses highlighted certain words – clues.
To grandpa’s treasure maybe?
Word Count: 100
Prompt: Friday Fictioneers 13th September 2019
PHOTO PROMPT © CEAyr