It's Still Life

Diffused

‘The light is a different colour here…’ she says as if speaking to herself.

She’s standing on a balcony that’s just large enough for two pairs of feet, two chairs and an iron café table that’s slowly corroding in the Côte d’Azur air.

They’re sharing the view from their hotel room, sharing a bit of breakfast, although she only drinks coffee at this hour, and his hand rests lightly on her shoulder – he’s glad they’ve returned here in May because last year when they did this road trip it was during an August heat wave.

And he knows her statement is a question even though she hasn’t said so because her brain has its own methodology, and he says, ‘Light in England looks blue because of something called scattering … light rays collide with air molecules, causing them to lose energy – the light defuses, has less energy, so diffused light is blue – and in countries closer to the equator, light holds more energy, so the colour is warmer.’

And she’s always found his access to encyclopaedic knowledge intensely attractive, and she turns slightly to face him, and says ‘Not in English; tell me all that in French.’

And he smiles, knowing where all this will lead.

Written for Six Sentence Sunday where one simple rule rules the week: no more and no less than 6 sentences. This week’s prompt word is access. Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.