You ask when I first knew I loved Marie. That's easy for me to say, mon amie.
It was the afternoon of my twenty-seventh birthday. I had quietly entered her garden through the arbor entwined with pink roses. Their fragrance was divine, and I stood watching her.
She sat at a small table, a bright orange chapeau shading her eyes, her dark red tresses caressing her shoulders. She was sewing something on a white silken handkerchief.
Moving closer, I saw her looking lovingly at her stitches. Initials. Mine!
She looked up, saw me and smiled.
That's when I knew.
Writing Prompt |
Write a flash fiction story. 100 words exactly. Title not included in count. |
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100 Word Flash Fiction Contest Winner
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Author Notes
Marie Therese Durand Ruel Sewing by Pierre August Renoir (1882).
Mon amie (my friend)
Chapeau (hat)
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