I was young once. I lived abroad, working in Paris and Prague, summering in Vienna. I ate in cafés and shopped in boutiques and went entire months without speaking a word of English. I wore red lipstick and drank hundred-year-old champagne and dined with even the most prim of central Europe’s movers and shakers. I lived with one man in Paris and another in Prague; in Vienna, I lived alone. I loved the quiet beauty and cruel richness of Vienna, and no matter how long I stayed, how much I did, I never forgot my first August of flowers and stones.
This story was published in GlassFire Anthology by Peg Leg Publishing. Check out the anthology, or order a copy, at http://www.peglegpublishing.com/anthology.htm . Make sure to read "Flowers and Stones," by Audrey Fine.
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