Spring in Paris was really happening. The penny-pinching and missed social outings were bearable because Paris was her dream.
Finally, shivering in her dress coat, Janet gazed upon a glowing Eiffel Tower. It was her shooting star: shutting her eyes tightly, she wished fervently for a life spent less alone.
Susan Schwenk wrote this story.
The doll’s faded curls stuck out defiantly. Her unblinking blue eyes were clouded, the greasy stain on her diminutive apron unseen.
Arthritic fingers gently soothed the curls then the worried eyes. Her apron, lovingly washed, was placed near the fire with a pat.
Finally, doll and owner were almost new.
Susan Schwenk lives in Illinois. She occasionally invites her muse for tea.