He dreamed of a holiday in the south of France, although he could never say why. He didn't have family there, wasn't partial to the climate, didn't speak the language, didn't particularly care for the food.
But there was something that called him there. So he saved up, and took the trip alone. His hotel room overlooked the ocean. Exhausted, he slept to the sound of the waves.
When he returned home, tanned and well rested, he found that he couldn't speak of his experience. Whenever anyone asked him about the trip, he would shrug and say, "It was Nice."
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Everyday Drabbles
Short StoryA drabble is a very short story one hundred words long. No more, no less. They are designed for maximum impact in the least amount of space. For 2019, I'll be posting a drabble every day.
