Julie of Story A Day prompts us today to write a prose sonnet: a 14-line story. The Shakespearian style is more storierer, so I’ll try that. This is also Thursday Doors, so I have a picture of a door to go with the story.
A Summer’s Day
by Marian Allen
She didn’t know why she was hurrying; Angelique was always late. She slowed down. It wasn’t really hot — not for summer — but just feeling rushed raised her body temperature out of all proportion.
She stopped, pretending to look for something in her purse while she took a few deep, calming breaths.
The tea shop was air-conditioned, of course, and she shivered as the chill struck her overheated body. More refreshing than the cool air was the lack of coffee aroma. Neither she nor Angelique could bear the taste of coffee, and even the smell of it was vaguely nauseating – worse than burning tobacco to an ex-smoker. She knew: She and Angelique had met in the smoking lounge at work, back before retirement, back when there were smoking lounges.
She had only had a piece of toast that morning, knowing she and Angelique would have a scone. Now her stomach rumbled and her head began to ache.
She ordered two English Breakfast teas, strong, and sat at a nearby table to wait for the tea and for Angelique. Three minutes seemed an eternity, but Angelique still didn’t come; what if her tea came and she didn’t, and it got cold?
As always, Angelique breezed in just as the tea was up, exchanged an air kiss with her, and led the way to “their” table, chattering the whole time.
Now for a moment in the washroom while the tea cooled enough to drink, two Tylenol, and her pleasant day’s outing could begin.
I think that’s kind of sad. Don’t you think that’s kind of sad?
Thursday Doors is hosted by Norm Frampton, photographer extraordinaire. Visit his site, enjoy his photographs, click on the blue frog link, and enter a world of doors.
MY PROMPTS TODAY: Write a story in 14 sentences. Tylenol, tea, a washroom. Opposite of meetings with my late friend, Jane.