This week’s story is inspired by this photograph provided by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
This week, I’m offering a follow-up to my story from last time (Faint memories). I hope you enjoy it.
Victoria squirmed in the tightly bound corset. Rivulets of sweat trickled down her back.
Her senses ached in the opulence of His Majesty’s ballroom. Danseurs, as colorful as the palace gardens gone wild, twirled and bowed in perfect, practiced time to the music.
Her own partner leered only at her bosom. His breath smelled of garlic and sour wine. Again, she squirmed. Would this dreadful waltz ever end? She had to escape this oppressive city.
All went black. Her knees buckled.
“Victoria? Are you awake?”
A sterile white room. Beeping monitors. Green scrubs hovering over her.
Oh no, not again.