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!

 

Business Consultant and Freelance Writer

Tagged with:
Posted in Flash Fiction, Writing
14 comments on “My Love
  1. Dale says:

    How could you just leave us hanging?
    Well done!

    Like

  2. neilmacdon says:

    I didn’t understand this I’m afraid. Where is he going? Why?

    Like

  3. 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

    Like

  4. draliman says:

    Lovely and with that last line, bitter sweet. It sounds like maybe one of them won’t be around much longer.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. gahlearner says:

    It starts out so romantic, and then something threatens… great scene.

    Like

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