This 52 word story is for Sacha Black’s prompt—The Holiday.
She sat on the last bench of the promenade with her back to the shops, the cafés and the big square with the fountain, watching the river as it flowed beneath a huge sky filled with white clouds. Tourists cast a casual eye before turning back to the shops. Holidays. She smiled.
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awww you made me all nostalgic, sigh… holiday feels so long ago now.
That’s the trouble with holidays—they end and you have to go home.