My Love

crook-roof

“How could anyone ever tire of France, Patrick?” Rebecca asked as she looked out the window at the beautiful tiled roof just outside.

“I don’t know, Sweetie. I always wanted to come back to Paris with you,” Patrick said.

“This may be the last time, Patrick.”

“I know,” he said, as he reached into his luggage and handed her a beautiful Hermes scarf. Rebecca’s breath caught in her throat and she looked at Patrick. “What have you done?”

“I’m giving you something to remember me by. You are my love.” #amwriting #amblogging #writing #FridayFictioneers

*Sponsored by Friday Fictioneers

Thanks, Rochelle!

 

14 thoughts on “My Love

  1. Dear Rosemary,

    How refreshing to read a sweet romance. Although, you have me wondering where he’s going that she needs something to remember him by. Lovely bit.

    Shalom,

    Rochelle

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