Photograph © Roger Bultot
The air outside her front door was all bitten through with ice but she stood there anyway, sleeveless and bareheaded, listening as he climbed the staircase.
Inside, he crossed to the window. ‘Orchids in the snow,’ he said, laying his hat next to them. ‘I knew this was your apartment as soon as I saw them from the street,’
‘Oh?’ She poured him the drink he hadn’t had time to ask for and drew off his jacket. ‘It’s been a long time,’ she said.
‘Hasn’t it? I’ve fought a whole war.’
‘And I’m just beginning mine,’ she said, watching him unbutton his shirt.
The above is my contribution to this week’s Friday Fictioneers run by the lovely and ever diligent Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to write your own 100 word story inspired by the picture, click here, or here to read other people’s.