“If he’d just stopped to ask for directions, we wouldn’t be in this predicament,” she exclaimed, stiffening her shoulders.
“Directions? How does one ask for directions while on a ship, my dear?” he said. “I hardly think the captain intended to wreck upon this island.”
Setting the map down, he looked out the window. “Not that here is a bad place to be, darling, don’t you think? I can smell oranges in the air.”
“What about those bizarre things on the beach?” she interjected irritably. “They look like giant Easter eggs.”
“True,” he conceded. “But what luck to stumble on this hotel! Have you ever had such fresh cream?”
Agatha let out a loud “Harrumpfh!” This was not how she’d imagined her honeymoon. They were supposed to be exploring the churches of Florence and walking the streets of Rome, not stuck on some God-forsaken island peppered with bizarre statues.
Waving her hand in front of her face, she muttered, “There aren’t so many mosquitoes in England.”
Chester stroked his wife’s fiery red hair and dropped a kiss on her forehead.
“You’re right, my dear.” He started to chuckle.
She gave him a questioning glance.
“…But England does have your mother.”
She felt a smile tickle the corners of her mouth.
“And she’s a far more vicious bloodsucker,” he added.
She burst out laughing. “Indeed. Perhaps we should never return at all.”
“That’s my wife!” he laughed, pulling her in close and raising the map. “So, after this, where to next?”
“Anywhere with you,” she said softly. “Anywhere at all.”
I wrote this today for the weekly Flash! Friday micro fiction contest. Let me know what you think!
UPDATE: Hooray! I won an Honorable Mention for the second week in a row. Woo hoo!