a short story by Rachel Hall

La Poussette

Winner of our fiction contest.

Sylvie Beauchard has been cooking since dawn. Her in-laws will be here shortly, so despite her fatigue, she is brisk in the dining room, snapping down the linens and cutlery. The wine glasses she places carefully by the plates. The green stems make her think of tulips and she wishes she had some for a vase. It is too early for flowers and besides, she chides herself, she has what she has most wished for.

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