The blue was sapphire, a birthstone but her friend’d bought her the old-world kind that looked almost black. Set in diamond chips caught in gold and silver braid it was gorgeous, true, but more than that spoke volumes of what she thought of her, how she perceived her, not so much as traditional which she could be, instead ageless, classical, unique.

There were none like her.




I could say Mildred’d bought Fran a bracelet made of old world sapphire, diamond chips, silver and gold for her bon voyage party. The camera was at the ready as she aligned the first round of Jagermeister.




The Prompt This Week:

             “The blue was sapphire…”



2 thoughts on “Fire

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