Postcard Vignettes

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.