
The rain fell lightly like the sky was holding back tears. I stood face upturned, letting the falling water mix with my freely flowing tears. Dark stains on my suit where rain and tears fell appeared as bullet wounds. Mortal injuries to fabric and soul. She was gone. The official cause: heart failure, unofficial: old age, to my grief stricken heart: neglect.
What will I do there
without my hands upon
your summer face?
The words she spoke as I left for New York, state not the city. I had accepted a job to teach corporate mid-levels how to successfully integrate AI. It wasn’t my dream job but it did pay. And that was the important thing, right?
Four months later she fell sick; Ten months later she was gone. Neglected.
What will I do here
without your winter eyes
to reflect my face?
This was for a dVerse prompt: For your prompt today, I’d like you to use the following lines in your Prosery:
“What will I do there
without my hands upon
your summer face?”
Write a piece of prosery of up to or exactly 144 words, including the given line in the order in which it has been given. You may add or change punctuation, but you may not add or delete words.
Hope you enjoy!
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A haunting story.
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Thanks Li. Glad it spoke to you. 😊
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You’re welcome, Stew.
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sky holding back tears I liked alot.
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Thank you. I liked that line as well. Glad you enjoyed.
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I like the way you turned from summer to winter in the end. I felt the weight of the emotion in this piece.
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Thank you! I think the original quote had a bit of weight behind it that lent itself to the piece. So glad you enjoyed it.
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I love the way you set up your Prosery with pathetic fallacy, Stew, and the simile on the opening sentence. I also like the dark stains on the suit appearing as bullet wounds, and the mirroring of the prompt lines.
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Thank you so much Kim! I’m very glad you enjoyed it. 😊
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You’re most welcome. Stew.
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Clever rephrasing of the quote. Great idea! 👏
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Thank you! It came to me quite early to rephrase the quote. Glad it all worked out.
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