A drabble for Kikei
It's the most beautiful sight you've ever seen. Beneath you, beneath the Tarpeian Rock, the white, regular ruins of the ancient city stretch out among the lush green of decorative bushes, like a garden built around the bones of giants. The sky is like no sky you have ever seen, the blue of the early evening speaks to you as no colour at home has ever done. You know that you come from a lovely part of England; and yet, the sight of Rome stretched out before you, three thousand years of beauty massed together and yet peaceful, seen from this sacred spot of the ancient… you are Pansy Parkinson, rich, sophisticated, one of the heirs of a great house; but here you feel like a happy, silent, wonder-struck child.
You turn to your companion. And you see, in his pale, pointed face, the unmistakeable signs of boredom.
Then and there, you know that it will not work between you, and thank the Gods that you never allowed yourself to be made pregnant or formally engaged.
You turn to your companion. And you see, in his pale, pointed face, the unmistakeable signs of boredom.
Then and there, you know that it will not work between you, and thank the Gods that you never allowed yourself to be made pregnant or formally engaged.