Jacob sat on the front porch and wiped his brow. He sighed, glad to be finished with his gardening job. As he sat there, catching his breath and cooling off in the shade, old Mrs. Gillicuddy appeared and handed him a glass of cold drink. “Thank you so much, young man,” she told him. “There was no way I could prune all those bushes myself.”
Jacob smiled and took the glass of drink. Inwardly, though, he grimaced. It was the same drink she offered him every time, but he was too much of a gentleman to refuse it. So he braced himself and took of a drink of the prune juice that he couldn’t stand the taste of.
This post is part of the Tuesday Use It In A Sentence prompt, “prune”:
Jeanne Owens, author 