Sunday Scribblings

#235 – Flashback

She never wore the blue dress again. No one noticed, not her husband, not her mother, not her friends, but she never wore his blue again.

Deep, sensual, flickering black or violet when the light caught it properly- a blue that defied description and caressed her skinlike a butterfly’s wing, the velvet slipping and hugging.

This blue meant home.

She kept her quiet pain wrapped up in the blue dress; the blue dress that reminded her of coming to balance, to ease, to where she belonged. She piled into the dress coffee, ticket stubs, scraps of paper with his distinctive writing, pictures, birthday wishes, watch hands, little paintings, oranges, sorrows, apologies and kisses. The feeling of hands in her hair, an arm about her shoulders, a brushed kiss onto her smooth skin.

Everything she had, everything she loved, was in the blue dress.

The blue dress was in a box, in the closet, under a pile of things which included an old sewing machine, three dead C batteries, a paper fan and a rubix cube.