I was pleasantly surprised to see one of my photos as the prompt for this week, but at the same time that makes this whole thing just a bit harder. I know the real story behind the photo, so coming up with another is a bit difficult, mostly because that is a good memory for me and I don’t want to change it. The photo was taken on my honeymoon–going on seven years ago. But alas, I shall give it my best shot.
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Now that that’s out of the way, on to my tale for the week.
The marsh had been chosen because it was quiet, secluded. He knew no one would bother them.
His boots thumping against the planks, he approached her, sitting on top of the picnic table under the roof that shaded the end of the pier.
He pulled the flowers from behind his back.
She scowled. “You know I hate roses.”
He leaned in and placed the flowers on the table beside her.
“They’re from Lily.” He planted a soft kiss on her forehead. “She said ‘Mommy need these. Make versry happy.’ Who was I to argue?”
She smiled and laughed. “They’re wonderful.”
Note: I originally had him killing her. The roses were for another woman, but I just couldn’t go there with a photo from my honeymoon. I wanted to, but I couldn’t. So I guess you could call this a surprise ending in that it is not dark.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.