Clean living

“Happy anniversary dear,” his expression is sour like the Bollinger we drink. “Ten years. Regrets?”

I summon my most expensive smile to answer, paid for in tears unshed. I send my smile down our antique oak table, to shine on him like a crystal chandelier; brilliant, cold, fragile.

I hold my champagne up in a toast to him. A toast to my oh so clean life. Clean of need. Clean of want. Clean of children, affection, love.

I miss your dirt. Your dirty face, your dirty hands, your dirty laugh.

I miss you; I missed you.

“None dear,” I respond, barely.


100 Words

Another Friday Fictioneer’s people thanks to Rochelle at Addicted to Purple. Check out the other stories here!

My take? Inspired by the classic work of Charlie Pride.

I remember listening to these records with my Dad. Ah, nostalgia 🙂

Love to hear your thoughts, your comments!







29 thoughts on “Clean living

    1. Ha! I briefly flirted with making her an adulteress, and actually reflecting on a current (dirty) lover, but this is where the words lead me!
      Thanks reading and for your comment.


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