Picture courtesy of Sandra Crook
Village life in France…this photo makes me want to be there now.
This story may be the predecessor of last week’s tale of reprisal.
Word count: 98
The smell of hay brought it all back. Summers spent on the farm, the warm afternoons in the hayloft, their sighs disturbing only the mice. Smiling, she shook her head at the memory; at their folly, his hay fever, the sneezing.
Stepping up the pace to reach to pharmacy, she didn’t want to keep her husband waiting. His allergies were bothering him this week. Eyes red-rimmed and weepy, he cursed the hay truck as it passed.
“Damn hay – gets me every time” he said, sneezing loudly again.
Suddenly, she knew where he’d been that afternoon. Suddenly, she knew.
© Erin Leary
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