He was like a steamship coursing an endless sea, always traveling somewhere else. Far away and faded from distance and memory to reappear on a winter’s morning.
All I’d ever wanted was for him to stay awhile. He’d drop anchor having found his home in me. We’d find joy as hoarfrost turned to blossoms.
In truth, we were lovers snatching moments. Memories danced from projector to wall. Each clip a scene. In one: a café in Barfleur. The next: a foray through a hidden bookshop. As we lifted the jacket of an all but forgotten ‘Emma,’ history rose dusty and reminiscent of bourbon and oak.
Desire is a fickle mistress. Once more, I’d wake to discover he’d left.
The Letter
Cilla
~draft
Are you finished this ms yet? It’s looking good.
Not quite. I have taken a break to think and plan. I see the path ‘home.’
Thank you for your kind words and your steadfast encouragement. x
I know it’s going to be a good book!
It’s over written, needs better transitioning between chapters, and a harsh edit! (Shhhh. It’s a love story.)
It sounds like a fun challenge. The rewriting is the most best part of writing a book.
Beautiful Annie – there’s a real sense of a sweep of time and place here, but also the inevitability of leaving.