The old white Remington Building had once been the home of a thriving knitting company with over 170 employees, including some members of my family. But the area declined, crime rose, and the business moved away.
The Remington Building was now shuttered, covered with weeds, and full of graffiti. Rounding a corner, I stopped and before me arose the words "No Trespassing" in big black spray-painted letters on the side of the building.
Sometimes opportunity trumps reason. I just couldn't resist.
To make sure nobody suspected me, I badly misspelled "trespassing."
No Tressrassing? It's bad enough when a neighborhood gets taken over by graffiti writers, but even worse when it gets taken over by graffiti writers who are not well educated. That's the moral of today's story based upon the picture prompt above in this week's Wednesday edition of the Friday Fictioneers.
You won't be tressrassing at all upon the other Fictioneers if you click on "tressrassing" wherever and whenever it appears in this post. They'll be happy to welcome you into their writing abodes and show you around.
Yes, I am now fully obsessed with the word "tressrassing." See you next week, and