“Here it is,” she said. “My studio.”
He followed her in and looked around. One little lamp at the far end casting conic sections against the blank white walls – parabolas of light. He glanced at the table in the center of the room. Bare except for a glass of sangria. Little beads of dew chasing themselves down the smooth cold curve.
“In case you want to stay for a while,” she replied.
She took a pitcher from the fridge, set it on the table.
It’s okay, he said to himself. I’ve waited long enough.
I’m back! Last week, I was preparing for a big exam. This week, I’m stuck in the house due to the Great North Carolina Snowpocalypse. Anyway…Every Friday, writers from all around the world write 100 word (or thereabouts) flash fiction based on a photo posted that Wednesday on Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ blog.
I welcome constructive criticism; without it I cannot grow as a writer. The weekly photo that inspired this story is below: