I was invited (well, not personally, but still…) to join the Fandango’s Friday Flashback!
Fandango scrolls back, every Friday, and gives a second chance to a post he had published on the same date the year before. I thought it was a great way to remember some of the stuff I did a while back, and I decided to participate…
So here it is!
Previously published on December 27th of 2016, this is a short fiction piece that I had completely forgotten. I hope you’ll enjoy it!
The winds had awakened her early…
“Go back to bed, honey” he would have told her, or would he?
She wandered in the house, while the freshly made coffee filled the rooms with its comforting smell. She couldn’t get decided to turn on the tv, or the radio. She just enjoyed the silence that gave her the impression the house was still asleep.
After pooring herself a cup of the dark roast brew, she sat at the kitchen table, warming her hands on the porcelain, as she turned on her laptop. The weather seemed to affect her computer, which was taking forever to load. But she didn’t mind, she had all her time.
She knew it would be there… No need to rush, she enjoyed the anticipation. What would today’s letter hold? She had no idea. He always had a way of surprising her in the end. Listening to the wind, she drank in silence, enjoying the warmth of the dark beverage and her woolen socks…
When she opened the window, his message was there, as always… Day after day, he never forgot to write, never went out of inspiration. Running her finger tips on the cup’s handle, she followed the words on the screen.
She imagined the golden age of love letter writting… Back when it took days, even weeks before getting one’s lover’s burning words. Back when letters were sealed with wax, and traveled from hand to hand, always risking to get lost along the way. Back when, from swain to damsel, and from damsel to swain, declarations escaladed from week to week, making their hands tremble.
She imagined the secrets carved on the paper, and the sighs they were rewarded with, when read by the fireplace. Picturing the lady, in her long laced dress, drying her palms on her skirt’s fabric, she fantasized about the promise of pure and galant love.
His words were definately as inebriating, just delivered in a less romantic way. And she read his early morning message with as much attention as if she had waited for it nervously. Her eyes followed the lines, not rushing her way through the sweet metaphores, and the fiery declarations.
She drank the last sips of coffee, and closed her eyes…
He had done it again. Tickling her very soul with a few words. Making her believe every beating of her heart was more important than his own life. Promising to wait forever, and to long for her lips and her lips only, until his last breath.
The wind made the trees’ branches scratch on the window panes, forcing her out of her morning reveries. She clicked at the bottom of the page, knowing she would later leave a few words back, hoping to catch his eyes with something clever enough…
Fifty two “likes” already… No wonder he made her swoon, she thought, as she left her cup in the kitchen sink.
You can visit the original post here.