Teachers saw the possibilities in Thomas. From the first day he entered the classroom, he was enthusiastic about learning everything there was to learn.
His mother had always taken pride in the way he looked. His father wore vests, and collared shirts, Thomas wanted to wear them too. When she heard the children would be reading from their primer on Friday, she was as excited as Thomas but nervous too.
Had he sufficiently learned to read after three months?
She thought he was bright, but she was his mother. After all, he was only 6.
She began to have thoughts of her own mother’s words:
Under her breath, Katherine grumbled. Moaning all morning about her disinterest in going to Chinatown fell on deaf ears. She hadn’t come to New York City to see food markets, commercial stands filled with counterfeit designer items, or inhaling scents from so many restaurants. She cringed from nausea.
Traveling with Charles was always a problem.
Katherine was looking forward to cultural places like the MOMA museum or a Central Park carriage ride.
You’ll enjoy the chaos was his reply when she questioned his itinerary. Let’s compromise, stay an hour.
In February, we had another photo prompt from Dale Rogerson. Since this week we’re having an encore of another of her wonderful photos, I thought I would continue my first Flash Fiction story called Dying Love. If you missed reading it click on the title; although, the stories are independant of each other. Thanks for popping by … Isadora
She sat on the chaise lounge, watching the droplets of rain slide down the window.
Her eyes were swollen and red from the tears she’d shed for hours. Time didn’t exist.
A blank space permeated where there used to be laughter between him and her.
Now, he was gone.
The police were kind but seemed suspicious. The paramour is always suspect.
Yes, they were opposites in many ways, but he was gentle, kind, and conscientious of her likes.