It's Still Life

At an Intersection Named After an English King and a Saint
Six Sentence Story: Part #10 To Trace a Curl

The Six Sentence Cafe and Bistro is on the edge of razor-sharp tonight.

In a corner booth near the back of the room sits a man who’s built for a rugby scrum. He’s with a woman with chalk-white hair who is wearing a low-cut black dress so plain and nondescript that most would find it a challenge to describe it the next morning.

His name is Pierre – he’s nursing a scotch, the golden liquid catching the light as it swirls in the glass, and her name is Brigid – she’s drinking fizzy water and Rose’s lime juice in a tall glass loaded with ice cubes.

He focuses on the stage while she listens to the music, her eyes closed, vaguely aware, swaying as if balancing on sea legs, and he’s not sure if she’s just lost in the music or falling asleep.

And I fill Brigid’s head with the familiarity of my scents – of Old Spice and warm orange peel and bread dough smelling ripe as beer, and when she rubs her nose with the back of her hand, I think Yes, after years gone by and yet here we are – she remembers me … but when I brush a stray curl from her face, her eyes fly open and she whispers,

” … Conner …. “

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Previous instalments of this story: Part 1: The Pull Back   Part 2: The Measure of Her    Part 2: The Gatekeeper’s Response  Part 3: The Colour of Walls   Part 4: Tectonic Shifts  Part 5: Out of the Frying Pan  Part 6: How to Break Eggs Part 7: A Moon River  Part 8: Starlight Shines on the Roof  Part 9: Before When  Part: 9.1 Flower Power Part: 10 To Trace a Curl

To access all of the instalments on one page, please use this link

Written for Denise’s Six Sentence Story to include the word “light”.  Some artwork is created using Midjourney AI, and is identified as such in the ALT text or captioned. Images are copyright and not to used without permission, which I willingly give when asked, and when not for commercial use. Imagery and poems/prose ©Misky 2006-2024.