I warm the hot chocolate between my thighs and look out on to the Thames as we pull closer to Borough Market. Last night hangs between us as the sun, like an excited toddler, scribbles orange on the river’s calm surface. Abbey Lincoln sings:
And it’s supposed to be love.
We pretend we have no use for irony.
In the morning light my puffy eyes adore the freshly caught fish and fancy aged cheese that you buy because I stared long enough. As we walk and eat spicy sausage sandwiches for breakfast I relax, but the night tauntingly hangs on.
(Written for the 100-word challenge posted by Velvetverbosity. This week’s prompt word was “breakfast.”)
Mmmmm…felt like I was there. Gorgeous.
Wonderful. I can just see the sights and smell the aromas. I visited Borough Market a couple of years ago. Your post took me right back. Thanks! Much cheaper than airfare.
Very tense with emotion. Your imagery is wonderful.
Vivid. Rich with a thousand sensations all at once…
Well done.
Thank you all for these wonderful comments! I thoroughly enjoyed writing it and look forward to participating in forthcoming 100-word challenges, as well as reading the work of other writers in the circle.
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