The Lotus Flower

Many thanks to Rochelle for Friday Fictioneers and to David Stewart for such a beautiful picture.

PHOTO PROMPT © David Stewart

The Lotus Flower

Generations of southern grace died when mother laid eyes on Binh clinging to Tim’s arm. Her lips wobbled trying to form a smile. Her hand, stopping mid-arc toward a handshake, fell to her side. Her fingers worried her pearls like a rosary. When her eyes moved to Tim’s, betrayal forming, I stepped forward.

“Binh! Hello,” I said. “Tim never stops talking about you.”

Binh’s eyes sparkled. A tear formed in the corner. Her smile, sad. “Thank you.”

I glanced toward mother but saw only the kitchen door swinging.

Tim kissed Binh’s knuckles.

We all expected different.

We all knew better.

end

15 replies »

    • Thank you, Iain. I hope to be positive too, but you don’t live in the country I do, and I don’t see prejudice dying down here any time soon unless something huge happens.

    • 💖 Thank you. 💖 Yes, when I read yours I thought, oh, we’ve both gone there. But we are here in this country where prejudice is right up front. I’d feel we were almost derelict not to go there, or not. There’s certainly no shame in trying to be bright in hard times. Let’s hope that next year at this time these thoughts are distant. 🙏

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