Flash Fiction: A story in three minutes or less…just 600 and 50 words! Enjoy!
The Fated French Pear Martini, Part 2
Marie gazed blankly at a full-length mirror. She tiptoed to her alarm clock, passed the endless blouses, jeans, skirts, and dresses that littered her bedroom floor. She let out an impatient sigh. It was 9:35 already. She quickly calculated the hours she had spent showering, styling her hair, carefully applying her make-up, and searching for an outfit. She also assessed the years that had passed since she had lost her sense of control. Normally, she yanked out whatever her fingers fell on when her hand brushed a fabric in her closet. In fact, even that was rare. After joining the force, Marie wore one outfit during the week and sweats at night.
Fashion or any sense there of it has disappeared from her life. Ever since she had seen the ad yesterday, Marie’s heart pounded in excitement and fury all of today. Excitement that Marc wanted her. That he had taken that length to find her. Fury that she had tucked away all of her other clothes for years. Since he left, her mind reasoned before she could stop it. Marie closed her mind and attempted to focus on her image reflected back at her. Should she wear the same dress as last time? What if he doesn’t recognize her? That impossible, she thought. They had studied each other faces for some time, her mind laughed. She let the memory of the night in question spread through her like a ray of sunshine until it permeated her dark, little corner of the world.
She ruminated on what was now a good memory. No, she could not wear the same thing. Bad idea. That would like her mother had taught her how to dress. The endless amount of slogans and advice given to her by her mother was disastrous. If her mother could see her right now, she already knew what she would say: “Simple is timeless, Marie Margaret. Why are wearing that awful make-up? It makes you look like a clown! You do realize that only women of a certain caliber wear make-up, don’t you?” Marie shook her head a few times; hoping that memory would leak out her ears and leave forever. She threw off the black dress and tried on a red, V-neck one instead. The moment the soft, supple spandex fabric touched her skin, she felt her anxiety flee from within. She looked up to see a beautiful women staring back at her. She drew back a breath. This was the dress she would wear. She had found the one. Hopefully her mind joked, it would help her anchor The One.
The edges of her mouth dropped slightly as she examined her neckline. All she needed was a necklace to complete her. Her heart thumped loudly as she forced her feet to move towards her dresser. Slowly, she knelt down and pulled out the last drawer. Do not think of him, her mind yelled in alarm. It was too late. Big, fat tears rolled off of Marie’s rosy cheeks as she lifted the top of an old chocolate brown jewelry box. A small shudder shook Marie’s body as she closed her eyes firmly shut. Her fingers felt passed a clump of earrings, the second she felt a long metal chain, she withdrew her hand. She was not fast enough. Her finger had brushed passed an old double-banded wedding ring.
Marie snatched up keys, and opened her front door. She let a warm, grassy breeze engulf her as she locked her door. She had left behind a horde of vomited clothes from her closet all over her floor but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t care.
“You look beautiful,” Marc gasped when he saw the women in red approaching him was Marie after all. Marie smiled as she studied him.
He blushed and dropped his arms to his sides, “I thought you might not recognize me…so I wore the same thing.”
Marie smiled as she she replied, “That’s alright. I trust you own more than one good suit.” Right? her mind pondered…