Thankee, mesdames.

I need to get my ass back to Europe. My memories are beginning to take on a very odd sheen, which probably means I'm missing something. Waking up in Villefranche or Cap Ferrat would probably do it.

Nic, alas, doesn't dance. But he's perfectly willing to rent me the damned villa and watch me dance alone.

A cartoon that ought to ring a lot of bells....

::snerk:: It even has broken glass!

Writer's Block

Claudia's husband stopped at the steps to the front porch, one foot on the bottom step. The window to the study was shattered from inside the house, littering the porch with shards of glass. In the middle of the debris was Claudia's old manual typewriter (even in this age of high-speed computer processors, she was dedicated to her Underwood), ribbon trailing out of it like a streamer.

"Well, looks like Claudia's decided to stop writing again," he thought, as he carefully stepped around the carnage on his way into the house.

BWAHAHAHAHA!

(wiping streaming eyes)

Teppy! You've been inspired!

It was meant to be -- it dovetails so nicely with this week's drabble theme!

Happy glass:

She pauses just inside the emptied room, the faded noise still echoing in her ears. The janitor looks up and shakes his head at her, age judging the exuberance of youth.

Her laugh isn't quiet enough, and he pointedly returns to his cleaning, sweeping up the shards that had escaped the bag along with food, paper, ribbons and other detritus of the festivities.

"There you are, silly."

He's standing very close as she turns, face alight.

"Come on. The plane won't wait for us."

She gathers her train in one hand, and his arm in her other.

"Yeah. Let's go."

ita, Jewish wedding aftermath? With the stomped-on for happiness glass?

Yup.

That's what I thought. Incredibly vivid, there.

Thank you!