37, day twenty six.
Another Monday, another Trifecta Challenge. This week’s prompt is use use the word “quaint,” with the definition of:
3a : unusual or different in character or appearance : ODD b : pleasingly or strikingly old-fashioned or unfamiliar.
A good prompt, I think. I’m not sure why these have been so dialogue heavy for me. I originally had something in mind involving time travel. Then I read Draug’s post, and the theme and tone inspired me. I was reluctant do this because of my fear of being derivative. But I realized that this is what is so great about a community like Trifecta. Everyone can influence and inspire each other. What I came up with was, of course, utterly different from hers, but I wanted to give credit where credit was earned.
“Hi Samantha,” Claire said in a weak voice. “You’re back.” She tried to push herself into a sitting position.
“Let me help you,” I walked over to her. “Yes, I’m back. One more time.”
She smiled. Her lips were thin and worn, and her skin was paper white. The smile was beautiful. “You say that every day.”
“Listen, Claire, I don’t have long. This is my lunch break, and I’m supposed to be calling an important client, so just…”
“Then call the client,” said Claire. “I already know what you are going to say. And you know what I will say in return.”
I shook my head in exasperation. “I beg you to reconsider. They say that this new procedure could…”
“Why don’t you wear that jacket anymore?” Claire cut me off. “The blue leather one with the straps. That coat was so beautiful. You loved that jacket.”
I shrugged. “I still love it. It’s just not me anymore I guess. I don’t know. It’s from a different time in my life. When I take it out of the closet, it just seems quaint.”
“Yes. Quaint. That’s exactly how I feel about it.”
She shook her head. “Life.”
My eyes widened. “Claire, I…”
She held up her hand to stop me. “I still love it. I still think it looks good on me. I’m just ready to wear something else for a while.”
I clasped her hand.
“Besides,” she said, “I had a good run.” I blinked away tears and nodded.
“Thirty eight years is just so little time,” I said.
“It’s long enough.”
“No,” I squeezed her hand. “It isn’t.”