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100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups - #40 …….Ruby….….

The meeting

Thirty-four years apart, my first love, my muse. A lifetime since that sweet embrace and gentle kiss of tender youth. Memory faded yet grew stronger, her power never dimmed. She was, she is, she will always be the first.

Two lives lived, two hearts tempered. She sits here now, eyes that dance, smile that flickers. My love has aged beautifully.

A chance rediscovery, a deliberate meeting. Curiosity for now, memory of then, a tie that never broke while lives rose and fell. And by her side an echo of her younger self. “Remember that time…” “Yes” “Well, this is Ruby”.



  1. OOh I want to know more :-)

  2. What a way to meet hitherto unknown off-spring. Nicely handled, well done.

  3. What a story, beautifully told in so few words. It satisfies, yet whets the appetite for more.

  4. That's a lovely take on "Ruby"

  5. I love a happy ending...even if you had to wait 34 years for it!

  6. Delicately written, and with a nice rhythm to it. Very good.

  7. Concise and developed beautifully ...

  8. Thank you everyone. Very kind and most encouraging. Apart from the last line, its a true story. And yes, that's her photo.


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100 Word Challenge for Grown Ups – #66: The silence was deafening

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…. the silence was deafening…..

The lost art of the kiss

OK here's the thing. At about two in the morning the thought struck me. No one kisses any more. Well, that's a bit harsh, everyone kisses. In fact everyone kisses everyone. That's part of the problem. Whether it's the Ladies Who Lunch and their coutured, coiffured air-kissing, bise-trois is de riguer these days, or slebs kissing each other for another pap-snap - Madonna and Britney anyone? - it seems that everyone is at it. A peck on the cheek, a smack on the lips, a tongue thrust here and there. I blame those continentals myself. Over there even the men kiss each other. Oh good grief.

Let me confess. At two in the morning when the thought struck me I was looking at the most luscious pair of lips imaginable. Jolie-esque in their bee-stung magnificence, this mouth belonged to an improbably proportioned young lady who is a member of that elusive club, the Dark Angels of Society. We had actually been talking for some time about matters carnal, sharing tips and comparing no…


Whenever the doors slid open I could hear the echoes of feet on marble and the rumble of the escalators. People always came and then stopped. I imagined they looked around, across the sea of desks, trying to work out where to go. Nowhere was signposted. “Third desk after the redhead” or some such description, then I heard them wander off into the noise.

What a noise. There was always the hum. Air-conditioners blew under every desk keeping the machines cool. Message alerts would ping, bong and tweet as some market somewhere hit some target. If things got tasty I might hear someone shout “Cable at 35” and then the immediate response “Nailed it”.

Of course there was the incessant chatter full of bloated fantasies “….blah blah yacht blah blah…” and foul intentions “…she would, I know she would….” And when people were close enough to me I heard their whispers and insecurities, their needs and wants. These were unpleasant humans.

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