Photo copyright Roger Bultot
To join in Friday Fictioneers, click here.
To view more stories from this photo prompt, click here.
Orchid Under Glass
I tend to my aloe and orchid while standing near the window, the ledge embracing another snowdrift. I watch for you.
Behind me Mama patrols the room, her eagle eye fastened on me. “Time to practice.”
I sigh, not wanting to abandon my vantage should you appear.
I begin my scales and then Debussy’s Rêverie. My heart fills, warmed by your smile when we met near the mailboxes. That tentative touch of your fingers on mine. Your deep chuckle. Yesterday, when you glanced up at me your smile eager, my wave, in return, pleading.