This was a 5 minute writing exercise based on a photo prompt. Sadly, I have not been able to find the photo, so you’ll have to take my word for it. It was a beautiful black and white photo of a Cuban woman in a traditional white costume, smoking a cigar, looking out of a window with a taunting, knowing smile. Plants in makeshift pots are teetering precariously on the windowsill.
The thyme is doing well this year. Grown like a young girl in a rush to get married, ready to jump in the first available pot. Majoram, now that’s a tricky customer. Hasn’t sprung even the smallest green shoot. And who said aloe vera would never make it in a tin? Just bore them and stuff them, is what I say. And now it’s tall, it’s spiky, it’s soaking up my smoke, like a greedy suitor.
Speaking of suitors, I know he’ll pass by again today. He can’t keep away. He thinks I don’t notice. He thinks he’s invisibly irresistable with his flash hat, spit-polished shoes, thin moustache. How I could teach him a thing or two about life! Coax him, keep him fed and watered, let him grow. Like my plants, he could do me proud.
This time he will not shuffle along. This time he will look up. And learn to linger.