I look at him hoping to see mischief in those Houdini eyes. Perhaps ten years have blurred my memory. It wasn’t I who followed a stranger to that bookstore along Rue de la Bûcherie. What was it called? Ah, Shakespeare and Company.
I did not go out of my way pretending to eye those weather-beaten shelves, fingering book spines, thinking of a way to start a conversation.
“James Joyce lies buried in the cellar” was your desperate did-you-know. I can’t believe how I fell for that—
How I fell for you.
Paris is indeed full of exotic swindlers.
Word Count: 100
Written for Friday Fictioneers, a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where a photo is used as a prompt for a hundred-word piece of fiction. The photo prompt this week is a courtesy of C.E. Ayr.
It has been a while since I’ve written for Friday Fictioneers and I am happy to be back this week. This one is inspired by Ali’s micro story titled Endings. As I have said (am I’m sure I’m not the only one), it’s rare to see him write about love and heartbreak. My hopeless romantic muse got thrilled and so here’s a prequel to his tale.. 😉
Head over here to join the prompt!