When writer’s group falls on a holiday, sometimes it’s hard not to use that in your story. The prompt last night practically begged to be used as a Valentine’s story. Enjoy.

By Genevieve Clovis

Sandra crossed her legs. As she smoothed the not quite knee-length dress over her thighs, she admired how well her immaculately manicured deep purple nails looked against the gold fabric. Soft jazz played quietly in the background suiting the dim lighting of the dining room.

She had to give him credit, Brian had planned the night wonderfully. A lace table cloth covered the small oak table, a squat vase of short stemmed roses sat in the centre flanked by two tall, white candles in silver candlesticks. All of these items were newly bought, in fact, the vase still had a price tag poking up over the bottom edge. But she could forgive him that. After all, he’d cooked a delicious meal of steak (rare), potatoes (mashed with garlic), spinach, and a side of salad.

Sandra gracefully picked up her wine glass enjoying the play of candlelight through the crystal facets before she drank down the last sip. The evening was almost perfect.

Sandra checked the delicate watch on her wrist then called out, “Brian dear, what’s taking so long?”

A moment later, Brian entered the room looking a little pale and holding out the bottle of Baco Noir he’d gone to fetch. He took an unsteady step closer holding the bottle out toward her.

“Is everything alright?” Sandra asked relieving him of the wine.

As answer, Brian clutched at his middle and slowly fell forward. His head missed the table by a mere inch.

Sandra leaned forward to look at his face. His eyes were still open. She nudged him with her open-toed stiletto — which showed her toes done in the same deep purple polish as her fingers — but he didn’t respond.

Sandra smiled and poured herself a fresh glass of wine. Now the night was perfect.

“Happy Valentines, dear,” she said raising her glass and taking a sip.