Write at the Merge gave us a picture of a brickwork heart and a quote from Groucho Marx:
When you’re in jail a good friend will be trying to bail you out. A best friend will be in the cell next to you saying, “Damn, that was fun”
Trifecta gave us the third meaning of the following word:
1: the female of the dog or some other carnivorous mammals
2 a : a lewd or immoral woman
b : a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman —sometimes used as a generalized term of abuse
3: something that is extremely difficult, objectionable, or unpleasant
I guess I should warn you now, if you haven’t guessed already… this post may contain mature language.
I hope you enjoy the piece – let me know your opinions on it, concrit always welcome.
The new patio looked fantastic. Lori called it an ode to HGTV. She said Mike Holmes couldn’t find something to complain about – it’d last for a hundred years at least.
Jenn hoped so – no good would come of digging it up too soon. Her gaze was drawn to the centerpiece of the brick patio. Heart-shaped and decorated in a mosaic of broken crockery, it was a work of art.
Lori always saw the possibility of beauty buried within old and broken things. There’d been an abundance of broken things to work with when they’d started this project. She’d been the only one to see something better buried in Jenn herself. She rubbed the crook in her nose where it’d been broken.
Sensing the maudlin turn of Jenn’s thoughts, Lori stopped dragging patio furniture out and joined her friend in admiring the heartstone. She punched Jenn affectionately in the shoulder. “Life’s a bitch, but we’re bitchier, eh?”
Jenn tried to smile, feeling her lower lip start to tremble. “Do you really think it’s over?”
Lori shifted a pair of rattan chairs a bit closer to the grass and pulled a cooler between them. She cracked open a beer and passed it to Jenn. “Honey, it’s been six months. That nice detective told you he’d personally keep you posted on the case. Sounds to me like they’ve shelved it, anyways.”
“You don’t think anyone will come looking?”
“Earl wasn’t exactly a picnic, Jenn. Nobody really wants to find him. You ought to put your mind to nicer things. Like Detective Jim.”
Jenn blushed, eliciting a whoop of delight from her friend.
“I knew you were sweet on him. Spill!”
A grin crept across Jenn’s features, youthful and bubbly. “He invited me to dinner – we’re going to that fancy French place on Highbury next Friday.”
“Well I’ll be damned – something good finally came out of your first marriage.”
Six feet under the patio, worms agreed that Earl was a delightful picnic.