A Wisp of Happiness
He had no one. One day he saw a thin beige thread trailing a beige scarf caught about the neck of a tall thin woman seated in front of him on the bus. He reached up, then dropped his hand worried that, if he pulled at it, the whole scarf would unravel in front of him. So he waited to catch it when she reached to ring the bell. She stood. Turned. Moved toward the backdoor. But nothing unraveled. A thread, only about twenty centimetres long remained, caught in his fingers. He tucked it safely into his pocket until he got home. Now he never sleeps alone, no more empty side, for the tall thin lady is draped along his bed.
Prompted by, “Longing for Happiness, by Gustav Klimt (Austria) 1901
Louella Lester
Louella Lester is a writer/photographer in Winnipeg, Canada, author of Glass Bricks (At Bay Press), a contributing editor at New Flash Fiction Review, and has a story included in Best Microfiction 2024. Her writing appears/is forthcoming in a variety of journals/anthologies.
Books
More: http://louellalester.blog
Comments
Reminds me of a time I wanted to do something similar, but couldn't. Longing for happiness, indeed. Thank you, Louella.
Thank you