Status: Sorry for the super long hiatus, I should have an update tomorrow!
The Right Partner
And so it begins.
Heaving a sigh, the young woman glanced at the clock on the small dresser. Fifteen minutes. Fifteen minutes left to get ready before Holly shows up. Unpinning her long hair, she let it fall in soft waves down her back. Rolling two sections near the front and smoothing down the fly-aways with some water, she was ready. Her makeup was sparsely done: A little rouge, winged eyeliner, and a touch of lipstick on her frowning lips. Shaking her head, she smiled.
Tonight is the last night, the last night I'll be able to do this.Just enjoy it Florence. Tomorrow you'll take a new step in the right direction. You'll get away from all of this. You'll be doing something worthwhile.
Glancing quickly around the room, she takes note of the lack of personal touches. Her modest dresser, small bed, empty nightstand, bedside lamp.The only things of real value in her room included a small jewelry box that once belonged to her mother. A strand of pearls was tucked into a silk handkerchief inside, along with the the locket she always wore. A stack of books lay scattered in the corner, and finally a picture frame stood alone on the dresser. Relatively small, as seemed to be the trend in her room, it was filled with a picture that brought both tears to her eyes and hope into her heart. A breathtaking woman stared back, dark curls framing her face. A true beauty, through and through, Florence's mother Mary had been someone worth meeting. She was kind and gentle, but also the rock in her family. The only girl amongst seven boys, she had grown up with a knowledge of men and how to handle life. Mary had died when Florence was six, during childbirth. The baby girl didn't survive either. That's probably what had really set her father over the edge, losing them both at once. Next to the woman was a young man obviously related to her. He had a smile that shone even through the picture, and a mess of red hair that would never be tame. A slight hook could be seen in his nose from when he broke it when he was ten. Anthony; her older brother. He was sixteen in this picture, just a few years before he enlisted. She distinctly remembered the day the letter came, just two months ago. Her father wasn't home at the time. The men looked genuinely sorry for her, seemingly alone as they delivered the news.
Shaking her head once more as if to rid herself of the memories, Florence gently took the locket out of the jewelry box and clasped it around her neck. Smoothing the imaginary creases from her dress, she spun to look in her mirror. Her firey red hair was in pretty contrast to the green of her dress, and her cream pumps completed the look. Nodding slightly to herself she walked to the door. Her heels clicked against the floor as she crossed the room. Her father was passed out in the chair with an empty bottle in his hand. Sighing once more, she quickly wrote a note explaining where she was going and slipped it on the table next to him. He'll eventually find it. Grabbing her purse, she locked the door behind her.
Tonight is the last night, the last night I'll be able to do this.Just enjoy it Florence. Tomorrow you'll take a new step in the right direction. You'll get away from all of this. You'll be doing something worthwhile.
Glancing quickly around the room, she takes note of the lack of personal touches. Her modest dresser, small bed, empty nightstand, bedside lamp.The only things of real value in her room included a small jewelry box that once belonged to her mother. A strand of pearls was tucked into a silk handkerchief inside, along with the the locket she always wore. A stack of books lay scattered in the corner, and finally a picture frame stood alone on the dresser. Relatively small, as seemed to be the trend in her room, it was filled with a picture that brought both tears to her eyes and hope into her heart. A breathtaking woman stared back, dark curls framing her face. A true beauty, through and through, Florence's mother Mary had been someone worth meeting. She was kind and gentle, but also the rock in her family. The only girl amongst seven boys, she had grown up with a knowledge of men and how to handle life. Mary had died when Florence was six, during childbirth. The baby girl didn't survive either. That's probably what had really set her father over the edge, losing them both at once. Next to the woman was a young man obviously related to her. He had a smile that shone even through the picture, and a mess of red hair that would never be tame. A slight hook could be seen in his nose from when he broke it when he was ten. Anthony; her older brother. He was sixteen in this picture, just a few years before he enlisted. She distinctly remembered the day the letter came, just two months ago. Her father wasn't home at the time. The men looked genuinely sorry for her, seemingly alone as they delivered the news.
Shaking her head once more as if to rid herself of the memories, Florence gently took the locket out of the jewelry box and clasped it around her neck. Smoothing the imaginary creases from her dress, she spun to look in her mirror. Her firey red hair was in pretty contrast to the green of her dress, and her cream pumps completed the look. Nodding slightly to herself she walked to the door. Her heels clicked against the floor as she crossed the room. Her father was passed out in the chair with an empty bottle in his hand. Sighing once more, she quickly wrote a note explaining where she was going and slipped it on the table next to him. He'll eventually find it. Grabbing her purse, she locked the door behind her.
♠ ♠ ♠
Sorry this one is so short. I'm immediately starting on the next one! No worries!-H