Pressed Flowers (228 Words)
She found them pressed between the leaves of one of her childhood favorites. The flowers were flat, pale purple. She didn’t remember when she had put them there.
“What is it?”
Eddie was watching her, bent over the box he was packing. It would have been easier to hire movers, but they had both wanted to save money. Em shrugged under her husband’s curious eye.
“Oh nothing,” she said. “Just some flowers I must have put in here when I was a kid.”
Eddie leaned over her shoulder. “In a book of Appalachian folktales?”
She pushed him playfully. “I was pretty weird.”
“Did you ever think you’d do this?”
Em closed the book, looking at the battered cover.
“Yes,” she said. “So much has changed. I’m not who I was then. But I always knew that if I could, I’d go.”
For a moment Eddie was silent. She wondered what he was thinking. They had talked, and he seemed willing to do this, to move from their New Jersey apartment to a small town in West Virginia. But it was a change.
“Do you think it’s real?” he asked after a moment, touching her book.
“I don’t know,” said Em. “I guess we’ll find out?”
He flashed her a smile. The look dazzled her, at once mischievous and light. “I guess we will,” he said.
Written in response to the Daily Post’s prompt, “Bewildered,” and CYW 2018’s prompt, “Bittersweet.” Check it out!