I’ve slowed down a bit on writing–moving will do that to you!
But I’ve gotten my heroine back to California and she’s a bit concerned about a potential health problem. The scenes I’ve written about her visit to the doctor contain researched information about the process. But some of my critique partners feel that there might be too much medical information in a story about love.
I’d love your input. How much information is too much information?
Here’s a short short story for your pleasure!
She left him behind in Russia. He was young and sweet, twenty years her junior, with lips that tasted like the fresh fruit of May. They had both been nurtured in the rich soil by the Black Sea. The warm sun had ripened her beauty into the softness of middle age.
Twenty years ago, Jews were persecuted in Russia. The chance came to escape to America and she left. He stayed behind, married, had children, and never forgot her.
Now he was here. He wanted to see her. She held his voice on the telephone and looked in the mirror.
“No,” she whispered. “It cannot be. Remember me as I was.”
She hung up the phone and wept.
The knock on the door came quickly. He stood there, cellular phone in hand. He pulled her close and kissed her with lips that tasted like the ripe fruit of September.