No More Mourning

8th March 2019

Story for Friday Fictioneers





Thank you to CEAyer for the photo.

No More Mourning

Staring out of the hotel window, Grace noticed the motorbike, almost hidden in the side street, waiting.  She'd seen it the morning before, when she'd watched as a handsome, middle aged, Italian man strode up to it purposefully and rode it away. She'd watched  him throw his head up against the wind as it blew through his dark hair and billowed through his open shirt, exposing his tanned body.

 Now she waited by the window. Three minutes, four minutes.. She was rewarded with a repeat of the day before, but this time he lingered, turned around,  as if looking for someone. Catching sight of his face made her shiver, her skin tingling, yearning. Her eyes followed him as he drove away and hung there after the noise of the engine faded. 

Guilt welled up within her. She shouldn't be feeling like this, she told herself. Surely it wasn't right.

 Grace thought of her husband who'd died just two months before. She'd nursed him during a long illness. She'd spent herself, put her own life on hold. Maybe it is only weeks since his death, but I'm done with  mourning, she decided, she'd done plenty of that over the last year as her dear Frank slowly disappeared.
They'd promised themselves that when they retired they'd spend some time in Florence. They'd looked forward to it, dreamed about it for years. She never expected to be here on her own, certainly didn't think she was brave enough, yet here she was. She knew her husband would understand, would even be happy for her. 

Maybe she would practice her Italian.

Maybe tomorrow she would speak to the mysterious stranger.