Imogene looked out of the window as Franz slowly made his way down the narrow alley. She had pleaded with him not to go, but he told her that it was his duty, as a man and as a patriot to go. “For God and country,” he told her, “et pour toi, mon cher.”
Imogene wondered if she’d ever see Franz again. She looked at the chronograph he had given her just before he left. It had been his father’s and his grandfather’s. He told her to take care of the heirloom for him while he was gone. He didn’t want anything to happen to it while he was at war.
She knew she would cherish the watch in his absence. A part of him, something near and dear, would be with her. She would look at it, observing every second until his return.
She stuck her arm out of the window for one last wave at Franz. The timepiece slipped off her wrist and crashed on the street below.
“That sucks,” Imogene sighed.
Written for this week’s Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt from Priceless Joy. Photo credit: ENISA.