Picture courtesy of Bjorn Rudberg
I have been hit and miss here lately – we have been in the thick of home remodeling again which has taken most weekends and some evenings. Almost done. In addition to working full-time, I’ve become an unpaid intern in the publishing world, reading manuscripts and providing my comments. It is a fun way to be engaged with the industry and may lead me in new directions as I contemplate what I want to do with the rest of my life. Consequently, I have been a sometimes writer and a very poor reader, but I still love this challenge and am with you all in spirit each week.
Word count: 100
Play it again, Sam
The dulcet sounds of the lute teased her ears. Surely she was mistaken – no one played the lute these days.
Following the tune to the alley, Marie saw him. An older man, he played a song her lover composed for her last century. Her mind raced as she tried to place him. Was he like her, a traveler?
Marie leaned toward him as the final note hung in the air, haunting, bewitching, beguiling. In response, he raised his gaze to meet her.
The eyes have often been called the window to the soul. In this singular moment, all was known.
© Erin Leary
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