This is a post in response to a photo writing prompt from New West Writers. - http://newwestwriters.com/. We're just supposed to write something related to the image or words in the prompt (or related to someone else's story). See their website for more details and to read other entries (hint: check the comments for each prompt). Enjoy!
The music had carried her away, as it always did. She'd watched his hands move as he played his violin, cradled tenderly between his chin and shoulder. And he had seen her, she knew. When he'd looked up from the front of the stage after his piece, his eyes had flashed in recognition and he'd smiled, the dimples on either side of his mouth deepening momentarily.
Once, she'd believed they'd be together forever. But it had been almost sixteen years and she hadn't seen him since that terrible night. Until now, when he'd come to find her standing in the theatre lobby at intermission.
"How are you?" he asked and she felt suddenly shy.
"I'm good." The silence grew a second too long and she blurted, "You played beautifully, as always."
He accepted the compliment with a graceful nod of his head. "Do you still play?" he asked.
A flash of memory. The two of them playing together in the small, local symphony. A lifetime ago.
"No." She dared to meet his gaze, then looked away. "I got busy with other things."
"What things?"
"Ready, Mom?"
She turned to face her daughter, back from the restroom already. It struck her then, how much her daughter looked like her, as the girl gazed up at the stranger. Until the dimples framed her hesitant smile.
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