ICHIKA

ICHIKA

 Ichika, whose name means a thousand flowers, knew her only way out of poverty was to marry a rich foreigner. Her photograph on the Agency’s website caught Vincente’s fancy, and after one  meeting he proposed.

His apartment in Malaga wasn’t the palace he had described, but Ichika told herself she was fortunate – Vicente was a considerate husband, she had found a shop that stocked familiar ingredients, and among the flower-beds of the park she almost felt at home.

Then winter came, and the park was buried in snow. Ichika spent her days sitting by the window, an exotic flower dying by slow, cold degrees in a foreign land.

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If this story seems familiar, it is proof that you are one of my faithful readers because, in a slightly different format, it first saw the light of day four years ago! 

Thank you to Dale for the photograph - she takes amazing pictures in her native Canada - and to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers on her blog, from whence you can navigate via the frog image to read other stories.  https://rochellewisoff.com/

My husband and I have had our first jabs, and are looking forward to enjoying more freedom this spring and summer than we did last year. Although, of course, we are always mindful of those who didn't make it, and the grief they've left behind. Yet still there are people who are refusing to have the vaccine without any sensible reason, and whose idiocy - or sense of entitlement - endangers others.