My wife, the beauty queen, he used to introduce her, on account of that one time when they were sixteen and she won a high school pageant. She would blush and give him a stern look, and he would smile at her until she relaxed again.
They used to hold hands all the time, too. Now all he holds is a brandy snifter full of the good stuff while his rheumy eyes keep a liquid watch on the blue gilt urn atop the mantle, nestled between the silver-framed pictures of smiling grandkids and a woman who used to be a beauty queen.
2 thoughts on “Sunday Short 1: My wife, the beauty queen”
[…] admit I’ve never tried flash fiction before. I got the idea a while ago from Robyn’s awesome blog post. I write relatively okay poems, but I’m not particularly talented at it – I’m […]
Wow. Brilliant. Tear-jerker. How did you do that with TWO paragraphs?