Friday Flash Fiction 3
Filed under Flash Fiction • Friday Flash Fiction • 20-07-2007 •
No tags for this post.PROVIDENCE
By Gareth L PowellThat autumn we moved into rooms above a bakery in Providence. The bedroom window opened onto a small iron balcony overlooking the quay, where Nina kept a window box of alpine flowers. Some mornings, icebergs dotted the steely waters of the bay, smeared pink by the rising sun, and the warm smell of bread rose through the floorboards from the shop below.
On Tuesdays, there was a market where the trawlers unloaded the first catches of the day. We’d wake to shouts from the crews and the cries of the squabbling gulls, and walk down to the market where each boat had its own stall heaped with fish.
We ate out a lot, dividing our time between three or four favourite restaurants. In the evenings, there was music from the cafés and bars that lined the seafront. And there were strings of lights in the trees that threw shadows on our bedroom wall.
Nina spent hours at her easel by the window in one of my paint-stained old shirts, her hair scrunched up in a bun, a little crease of concentration above her eyes. I’d make cups of scalding green tea and watch in silence as she worked, knowing it couldn’t last, but grateful just to have this time with her
