Flames #DailyPrompt

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

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The old man turns the pages of his album: they are all there, from tiny five by five black and white photos, already mellowed by age, to the bright shots he took at the height of his, and their, seductive power. Beaches, venerable ruins, busy streets, lonely mountain peaks: so many stages he took them to, willing, sometime a little anxious…

He smiles at them, all those gorgeous girlfriends, and they appear to smile back. But is there some sarcasm in their eyes?

Old fool, are you still kidding yourself?

 

Photo: “We are not mad. We are human. We want to love, and someone must forgive us for the paths we take to love, for the paths are many and dark, and we are ardent and cruel in our journey.” – Leonard Cohen, via                  david-f-locke            

#FiveSentenceFiction: Flames

“Would he lie to me?”

Félix Vallotton (1865-1925) - La haine (1908)The insidious thought crossed her mind, lingered, before she recalled “he” had been gone for several months, in fact five months, and she was now free.

It might have been a great passion, the kind of encounter that leaves one bruised, ecstatic, changed, all at once, but she was glad now that it was over.

Still: was he lying, cheating, pretending?

Did it matter, as now her mind turned to this unquestionable fact: “he” was now but one of the old flames?

Image: Félix Vallotton (1865-1925) – La haine (1908)