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Online journal capturing the moment and the memory of moments. A meadow meditation. |
Kinkan Quentin sparkled as he stepped off the ship. He hoped his slip wasn't showing beneath his sequins. Stone houses rose above the stone streets from the quay. So quaint. A small sign declared: Glad to see you come; glad to see you go. He decided to wander around, careful of the cracks between the cobblestones. He searched for souvenirs. Saw nothing but sellers of kumquats. He ate one to be polite and asked where he could find a coffee. He arrived at the teahouse pointed out to him. Tea with or without kinkans was on the menu board. Puzzled Quentin said with. When served in a dainty cup the aroma of citrus took him by surprise. Kumquats. The was nothing to do but hide his disgust, adjust his tiara, straighten his back and bring the cup to his lips, pinkie out. He took a sip. 145 words as of 10/14 A queen is a queen wherever he may be Quentin felt tired. Sun and sea and two cups of tea, the second one black. He got lost in the maze of small streets and found a pawnshop. An assortment of baubles enticed him to linger. He tried on rings made of coral, necklaces of sea shells, an anklet of pearls. He bought a set of mismatched earrings as as a gag gift for a friend. Then he wandered back to the quay where he saw his shipmates waving as they slipped away. They'd left without him! But a queen is a queen wherever he may be. With a stiff upper lip Quentin turned to go looking for a room. One night won't kill me, he sighed. 117 words as of 10/14 93.565 |