Isabella smiled, feeling the warmth of the morning sun against her face.
If anyone asked, her colour of hope was sunshine. It was transformative. The grass was greener, the sky bluer. People were friendlier, kinder, more generous. And she always felt happier, for no reason at all.
“John,” she said, nudging her partner. “Time to get up.”
“Don’t you have a meeting?”
“$##. I’m up!”
She kissed him. “See you later.”
Leaving his downtown office, John noticed Isabella down the street wearing a white floral midi-dress. She was joyfully strumming her guitar for the gathered lunch-hour crowd.
I wrote this as a very belated response to the Carrot Ranch’s April 24, 2023 Flash Fiction Challenge for a 99-word story (no more, no less) about the colour of hope.
The inspiration for my story came from a talented busker who occasionally performed midday on the streets of Toronto’s Financial District. He was an amazing acoustic guitar player and he connected with the lunch time crowd with his music selections and professional business attire, or costume which is how the buskers refer to it. His guitar case was always lined with tips.
Wonderful once again!
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Thank you! 💕