If a June night could talk, it would tell you the story of a young woman in a long, blue gingham nightgown, sleeveless, with a delicate trim of white eyelet at the neck. It would tell you of a young man so hopelessly in love that it made his teeth ache, and of how that love began.
But nights can’t talk. There is only the sound of the crickets, or of two owls calling softly to each other in the twilight. Perhaps there is the sound of the water lapping the shoreline of the lake, and the sound of our sighs in the dark, in June.
This is my offering for Jenny's Saturday Centus. The prompt is in bold type, and Jenny has given us 100 words plus the prompt with which to create a vignette, a flash fiction. If you are not yet a Centusian, I hope you will join us!!