Prompt courtesy of VelvetVerbosity.


“I’d rather be thought of as pretty than smart,” she said over her shoulder as she brushed her hair. “But no one ever thought I was either.”

“Well,” he said, pulling the needle from the record. “I always wanted to be a troubadour.”

“A what?”

“You know, a travelling musician. Dusty jeans, holes in my boots, voice raspy from liquor, guitar slung on my back, hardly a rumpled dollar to my name. Moving from town to town.”

“That’s romantic,” she said to his reflection.

He shrugged and put another record on the turntable.

“Kids want stupid things sometimes,” he said.


6 thoughts on “Troubadour

  1. love, love, love how you did not take the easy route of “but you’re beautiful to me, baby”!!!! So well done, troubadour. So wel done.

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