Heather’s Story

The day was new, the sun was shining, and Heather had a new boyfriend. All was right with the world.

She sat at the table in the coffee bar waiting for him to show for breakfast, visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. She absolutely couldn’t wait for Richard to show up so she could enjoy one more precious day with him before he had to fly to Bulgaria for his mission to begin. He was the top secret agent in the country, possibly the world!


What Heather didn’t know was that her marvelous new boyfriend, the catch of all catches, was a complete and utter fake.

In about twenty minutes, her smile would begin to droop. The waves would crash a little more loudly. The sun would shine a little more harshly.

Forty-one minutes after that, she would pull her sunglasses down to cover her eyes as she shook her head at the waiter, refusing another refill.

Seven minutes after that, the first tear would break free of her lashes and begin coursing down her face.

She would try to cover it up by stretching her arms and rubbing both sides of her nose, but the happy couple at the neighboring table would notice the damp streaks her fingers would leave behind.

Exactly two hours and four minutes after Heather first took her seat, she would give up all pretense of a facade, and leave the coffee bar crying openly, her feelings of joy a distant memory.

Richard would still be sleeping in his hotel room, without a care in the world.

Today’s photo prompt brought to you by–you guessed it–The Blog Propellant.

5 Comments on “Heather’s Story”

  1. LRose says:

    A college friend of my mother’s was married to a spy…what a genuinely weird, weird existence. My mother’s friend said she just had to get used to the days he never came home from work and never knew, at those times, when we would…if ever. She had some official resources to assure her of her husband’s well-being, but mostly she was left in the dark. My mother said friends would tease her about him having carte blanche to have affairs, etc., to which her friend would say, “Of course. He’s a spy. Making connections is necessary.” But, the amazingly wonderful thing is they were happily married with three children until both of their dying days, roughly 50-ish years. Now…there’s a story to write, eh?

    • April says:

      Wow! You’re so right, I would love to read that story from her perspective. I’m a memoir nut anyway, but the more unique the story, the more I want to read it.

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