French Fancy

A Story by Quin

Flash fiction. This was my first attempt being given just a title and 20 minutes to develop it into something readable. I'm not sure whether to continue it further or to leave it as it is?

Making my way to the bar at the exclusive rooftop party I halted in horror - him.

There he was, the stunning sunset embracing all 6' of him, suited and groomed to perfection. His huge hands, his chiseled face, his green eyes all open - for me...

I couldn't move, rooted to the spot with my heart desperately trying to break through my chest. My mouth went dry. I could feel my eyes moisten and my legs tremble. I couldn't move.

"Sara" he called out invitingly. That deep, husky, knee-buckling voice - oh the pain. The wanting of my heart. I never imagined I could feel this way again.

Still frozen and unable to speak I watched his lips part again as he moved through the chic Parisian crowd closer towards me.

"What a wonderful surprise seeing you here"

NO! NO! NO! My mind raced. This can't be real. I'm in f*****g Paris. This is NOT happening I told myself. It's just a dream. Then he touched me. And just like that - I was broken.

"Four years" I whispered "Four years"

"And like as fine wine, you've got better with age - wow" he purred back

I thumped his chest and bellowed "SHE WAS MY BEST FRIEND!!!"

The room fell silent...

30/09/13