358. Picnic: Write about going on a picnic.
There was a couple. I saw them once and never again, lying close, as if the contact of their skin was of the utmost importance. They laid upon a large blanket, basking in the Washington D.C. heat. Behind them was the Washington Monument, poking the sky. They were not the only people on the wide lawn, but they struck me because of how intoxicatingly in love they looked.
They were young, and they were reading a book together. The woman held it and the man held her. Something about them reminded me of the 70s and leaning against Thunderbirds together, with fringe, bold patterns, and even bolder behavior. Something about them was vintage in a stylishly grungy look: a bit of tired mixed among youth and something stretched but bright.
I didn't see them long. They stood up, threw a few grapes at each other, and then packed up their blanket. One person held that and the other held a picnic basket. They walked away with their bodies fused to each other at the sides and his arm thrown carelessly around her shoulders.
I tried to be inconspicuous as I watched them. They were just one among many passing muses, but I liked them enough to remember. I liked them enough to write about them.
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365 Days (Part 2) | ✓
Short StoryEvery day of the year, I'll be writing a short story, a poem, or even a reflection over my own life. It's a wild and crazy journey. I like to experiment with different styles and different ideas. Ever since starting to do this at the first of the ye...
