The Window

“Tomorrow,” he said aloud, not realising his inner monologue had sprung a leak.

Tomorrow. I’ll speak to her tomorrow.

It was always “tomorrow”. In fact, tomorrow would mark 99 yesterdays; each one a little fonder yet a little sadder than the last.

Tom took a deep breath, checked his watch, and strolled past the department store window.

He glanced as they became one for the briefest of moments. His reflection merging with her tall, perfectly dressed, slender frame – the same as it did yesterday and the day before.

She may not have noticed him this time but there was always tomorrow.

 


Here’s a little 100-worder for Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle. Please feel free to comment, critique, like or subscribe for more!

Want to hear me read this to you?

Oh, and don’t forget to check out the other stories based on this picture.

chicagomg

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