Ahead of me, she peers through the patterned window of the tea-shop. She’ll hate arriving first, as would I, but enters anyway.
I hesitate, wondering why I’m here.
Does either of us really have an appetite for this reunion, for reminiscing, revisiting roads not travelled, the gates to them now closed by the years? Do I really need to remember who I was, how I was…
The doorbell chimes again. She’s decided to leave without seeing me.
“Ellen…” I call.
We re-enter the tea-shop giggling, arm in arm.
Affectionate nostalgia overwhelms us – hopefully arming us for the fray ahead.
The photo is a prompt from 7 years ago, but my story is a new one. I was going to re-post my old entry but I see not many people understood it. And, frankly, nor did I at first re-reading. 😦 Sometimes you can be just too obscure for your own good. Thanks to Rochelle, our Friday Fictioneer leader.