#FiveSentenceFiction: Composure

 Sitting at the small table, in this corner of the enchanted city, you are the quintessential woman, from a country where smoking a Gauloise is, for a pretty woman – but you all are – never a sign of ostentation.

I love the little scarf, and the beret, matching the red schoolgirl shoes, the  striped sailor’s cotton shirt, and all that cheese on the table: I smile at you but you are far away.

Were you to notice me I would be the one to lose it: the irrepressible urge to be part of your picture, but, alas, as you can see, I am escaping, crawling on the white table cloth, pretending not to be there…

Under my little shell, I blink at the red wine, promise of slow cooking, and of garlic, yes, that powerful and pungent aphrodisiac.

But, as a self-contained, if not sex-less, mollusc, I shall keep my composure, and, soiling the white cloth, keep dreaming of you.

18 Comments

  1. This is quite good.
    “Were you to notice me I would be the one to lose it: the irrepressible urge to be part of your picture, but, alas, as you can see, I am escaping, crawling on the white table cloth, pretending not to be there…”
    Nice!

    Like

  2. I have to say that this is beautiful! The imagery was lovely to start with, but from the perspective of a snail… I can only imagine that magnitude of the impression grows with the shrinking of the beholder’s eyes. =)

    Like

  3. Lovely! I loved the line about slow-cooking… Good luck with the escape little snail, and are those yet more intoxicated snails on her plate?

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  4. I’m months late to this party – the cheese is all stale rinds, the wine has long since soured, la fille is just now showing her unfortunate pregnancy, and the escargot have gone . . .

    But I love what you have done – the imagery, the PoV, the poignancy: perfection.

    Great pic, too.

    Cheers!
    JzB

    Like

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