This is a momentous Flash Friday, anniversary of my kidney transplant, and I'm in a melancholy mood. Our awesome leader has chosen a picture reflective of a nostalgic scene in a short story I'm working on, "Coffeehouse Romance," so since we only have 100 words to share, here's part of that scene. Hope you enjoy, and here's the link to take a look at my friends' flashes, too :-)
(Taken from Coffeehouse Romance)
Her Russian crescendoed and decrescendoed in an un-timed rhythm, the creaking of a swinging kitchen door, and I leaned closer, regretting the lie, grateful for my annoying digital recorder as I struggled to follow.
“We were both tantsory, you know.” Her soft gray eyes lit with pride.
When I continued to stare, rather dumbly, I’m ashamed to say, she stood, supporting herself with her cane, and lolled her head from side to side, two-stepping in her slippers.
“Dancers, my dear. We were dancers.”
She sat again, graceful for her years, a mischievous grin splitting her beautiful, paper-thin face, this time leaning closer to me.
“And lovers,” she whispered. “I think, that night, I wanted him to recognize me, but again, age simultaneously adds and strips a woman’s layers. Better he remember me as I was.”