“Something for you to remember me by “, I adore the painting on the table as his voice echoes ,bridging proximity and distance, permanence and impermanence . The precious gift had started to show the wear and tear of time but I have refrained from framing it. I don’t want to lose his imprints. I read his letters from decades ago, stored in the beautiful jar that we had bought from the exhibition . Together. “For the beautiful lady” , he had said. I feel heavy and light . I try to catch the floating words and store them inside.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle. Thanks Rochelle for hosting the challenge.
PHOTO PROMPT © Janet Webb