Postcard Vignettes

Will she understand, or will she see my postcard as a cowardly act? Another in the series of Postcard Vignettes.

Whatever possessed me to think that Marguerite would be a perfect travel companion?

Although we’d known each other for years, we’d never travelled together, save for a few local car trips. She’d been perfectly fine then. Oh, there had been a bit of griping and moaning, but nothing I couldn’t handle. I would simply smile and try to change the subject. But changing the subject didn’t change things at all.

It was really quite comical. I was sound asleep despite the constant shifting movement of the train when all of a sudden there was a loud banging on the door of my berth. It took me a moment to get my bearings. Where was I again? Oh yes, somewhere en route to Thunder Cape.

I just kept thinking about her. Even though we’d met just months before, and even though we’re now in the same town, we might as well be worlds away.

The desk had been set up in anticipation of this moment. The mahogany gleamed with a rich dark hue, having been lovingly oiled and polished ‘til the grains no longer were like rivulets in the sand, now smooth to the touch.

The postcard came, unbidden and unwelcome. Who did Babe think she was anyway?

It’s hot. I’m very tired. I should be enjoying my stay here, but I’m not.