High school English teacher who enjoys writing, reading, being out in nature, a cold glass of white wine, and a charcuterie board.
Her Most Magnificent Flower
Her earliest memory was of her tiny fingers deep in cool earth, planting bulbs, next to her mother, their backs towards the sun, shoulders turning a bright pink. Birdsong could be heard in the trees, and if they were lucky, a small breeze would dance through the air, cooling the sweat that gathered along temples and brows, down their backs and necks. Barefoot, in well worn jeans and straw hats, they’d tend to the garden, prune weeds, water and plant new flowers for the next season. They would turn in only once the job was done, a good kind of ache deep in their bones.
Regret and Cigars
Outside her house, there’s a man in a blue car. The cigar smoke gave him away. It danced in curls through the small opening of the window, the scent tart and biting in the cool air. She could smell it a block and a half from her house, and it was the only reason she was able to spot him.