I lowered the binoculars. A sip of coffee did nothing to wash down the taste of my failed past, nor did it dissolve the knuckle-like mass growing in my stomach.
Eleanor Strand. . .
The name had meant nothing, uttered from the brown suede chair in my Brooklyn office; just another unfaithful spouse of the rich and famous. The customary exchange of yellow envelope and stale cigarette smoke on hand had followed.
Married name. It seemed obvious now as the thought whirled through my head. Follow your dreams, I thought bitterly and settled in to spy on my ex-fiance.
This week’s prompt: “Follow Your Dreams” – Why not join the 99-word Carrot Ranch Challenge yourself?