“Colette, ma Cherie. Je t’adore! Ma belle…”
Oh! How the mighty have fallen!
The glass smashed against the mirror and champagne dripped over her shattered reflection. Almost blurred beyond recognition, yet still there…along with an anguish so intense, it burned. Filled her veins with such fury, she had to let it out.
Showered in roses. No broken bones. No bruises. Then, there were the gates. The constant surveillance. Always breathing down her neck, following her every move. She couldn’t breathe.
“Mrs Windsor, back to bed. Your husband’s on his way.”
Colette smiled. The staff were always so obliging.
This was another contribution for Friday Fictioneers. PHOTO PROMPT © J Hardy Carroll