This short story was published as part of Tellables' June 2019 Box of Chocolates stories centered on summer romance inspired tales. Box of Chocolates is an Alexa skill you can install to sample monthly short stories narrated by digital, story-telling chocolatiers . If you have an Alexa device, I recommend you give the Box of Chocolates skill a try.
And if you like the idea of writing delicious, super-short stories (100-400 words) by all means check out the Tellables website for story submission guidelines.
I was arranging chocolate animal minis when I noticed her window shopping. Her graying, curly hair peaked out from beneath a knitted cap. The curiosity of her demeanor bubbled with youth as she inspected my June display of chocolates. When the half moons of her eyes hove into view with a sweet pinch of a smile, I did a double take.
The year was 1990 and I was in London. Jenevieve was her name, though she went by Vivvy. We were friends in the sixth form a year apart and we had one lukewarm date. By total coincidence, we met again at a King's College cricket match just before my graduation. The summer that followed was all that a young romance could be. We hiked in parks, cooked meals together, read poems to each other, and embraced the sexuality of youth with simmering fervor. I for one had fallen in love.
One conversation on the blower in particular returned to me. It concerned cats. Long before Facebook took feline photos viral we discussed in delicious detail their loving and mysterious, yet scheming natures. I think we talked about nothing else for hours.
Sure enough, though, summer’s end came all too soon and Vivvy returned to university to complete her final year. I heard she moved stateside and never heard from her again.
Waking from my reverie I saw the display window was now empty. I went to the door and looked around for the woman I was certain was Vivvy. Alas, no one lingered outside the shop anywhere. Then on the window I saw inscribed in violet lipstick the word “Meow” followed by what I assumed was her number.
With an exhale somewhere between a sigh and a chuckle, I wiped the window clean. Memories of youth held little temptation for a happily married man.