The place had been abandoned for many years. It had been his childhood home. His father had been the founder of a car company. After he died, he had left his son one of his newest models.
He didn’t want it. His mother had just bought him a new cars, ordinary as it was, and he escaped in it.
His father was addicted to wine. He’d hit his son. He couldn’t get away soon enough.
The car had been left to rot, an undriven Rolls Royce. It was now a classic car, and it would be sold to the highest bidder.
Friday Fictioneers, 31 July 2015.