(100-word flash fiction)
Her diplomat husband was asleep when Sarah climbed into their bed, his smug smile in place, his body turned away from her. Sometimes he whispered “Lily” in his sleep.
Every night, the bed became a vast ocean and she a bobbing little boat, lost in the immensity of loneliness.
To save herself from drowning, she conjured up the same image.
A tiny seaside shop called HOPE. And behind the glass door, a bearded man with unkempt hair, but soft brown eyes, selling trinkets. Who she had given up for the diplomat because she had wanted to “travel around the world”.
Made it to another round of Friday Fictioneers (I almost didn’t 🙂 ) Things have been hectic and my brain a bit fried so couldn’t read many of last week’s stories. Thanks Rochelle for this brief interlude of simple, creative fun. 🙂 And congratulations on finishing your novel. How exciting!