Magic in the Back Yard, http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/, gives a photo prompt for some photograph prose. While I don’t normally write prose, the photo (below) caught my eye. Why not?
By Mike Patrick
She looked up with a wistful smile at the bittersweet memory of when he stopped her here
and pointed to his corner office. There was their future, he said. He was going places.
His hand, holding the blue tension-relief squeeze ball, rubbed lightly across her cheek as he kissed her. The ball was her office-warming gift to him. It had a home waiting on his executive desk. That big corner office represented enough money to allow them to get married. Life was perfect.
In front of his building, they went their separate ways: he, up to his new office, she to the subway. The wedding invitations were in her bag. As soon as she got home, she was going to start addressing them.
Forty-seven minutes later, the first plane struck. The glass from his office windows rained down upon the sidewalk below. The blue ball was never found.