The house was eerily quiet. The chilly air, a reminder of her long-term estrangement from her mother.
Sorting through years of her mementos was going to be laboriously stressful. It would be easier once Monique arrived.
She opened a leather box her mother kept on her desk. Letters from France?
Angelique read the last letter:
I miss you, though your touch lingers still.
Without you, time is an empty space.
I long to hold you. My heart aches for your return.
Come back soon, Mon amour.
Ergo, the secret of our French names finally revealed.
Genre: Flash Fiction
Word Count: 100
Photo Prompt©Sandra Crook
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