Salades

As she reached for the door handle, Marcy looked back at the empty chair she'd been sitting in a moment before, and wondered if she'd ever return to Paris again, without her sister. Rita sighed with exasperation behind her. The sunlight of late afternoon cast a shadow of the window decal on the restaurant wall.  The end of their last day here was imminent. To Rita's further annoyance, Marcy lifted her phone and took yet another picture before she turned and pushed past her sister to step out into the empty street.


Open the door...tell your best story with one of my workshops.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Paris, She Is My Heart

The Voices We Need to Hear

Only in New York