Free Write Two Women

 

This is Rick's and my last free writer at the boulangerie in Vandoeuvres. We will be returning to France for the next few months and when we return it will be  too cold for the terrace. Future free writes will be in French cafés. The prompt for this one was two women talking at a nearby table. Sherlock went with us, took his place and ate his share of croissants. He wrote nothing.

Rick's Freewrite 

A couple of croissants, coffees. Not unusual for breakfast, a bottle of Coke. Two old friends, former co-workers actually who hadn't seen each other in three years since the office had closed because of COVID.

Sarah, with the blazing red hair, had shifted into real estate at one of the detested "regies," who had controlled apartments in Geneva though she had determined to single-handedly change that perception at least among her clients by offering actual customer-service.

Blond Jennifer had not reentered the workforce to coast on her NGO VP husband's generous salary.She had leaped on the chance to get together behind the boulangerie when Sarah had called in the middle of her August vacation break.

They had laughed about former colleagues, caught each other up on marriages, divorces, and kids though Jennifer didn't have much to offer in that department. She spent much of her time watching lame game shows on TV or browsing the shops in Confederation.

As they parted company, Sarah idly suggested an admin position opening at her immoblier. "You should apply."

"I'll think about it," Jennifer responded, but she wouldn't.

D-L's Freewrite

Gina and Frederique, Freddy, had been friends since kindergarten. They had been opposites then, they were opposites now, Gina with her red streaked brown hair and Freddy with her blond.

For years they had sat together at school tables until uni. Gina went  to art school in Rhode Island and Freddy studied philosophy at Harvard.

Here there were now, sitting on the café terrace, planning Freddy's wedding. Or Gina was.

Gina's speech gave credence to the cliché talking a mile a minute. Her leg jiggled, her hands moved constantly to emphasize this or that point about flowers, music and menus. "No frufru bridesmaids dresses. As maid of honor I want something chic." Her friend Clare, studying fashion design, had already made drawings.

It had always been like this. Freddy didn't care. Her friend's energy and escapades had given her energy for her studies.

Gina reached into her portfolio and pulled out the wedding sketches.

One by one Freddy looked at them. "They are all lovely. You decide."

"But it's your wedding."

Freddy had laughed her soft laugh. "I chose the groom."