This is part of Sonya’s 3 Line Tales weekly prompt! Photo by Erol Ahmed.
She paused at the wooden box overflowing with lemons. Their scent always reminded her of home. But then again – it was never quite right; there was something missing, every time. Maybe the ocean sounds, maybe the distinct belligerence of the Costa Brava gulls. Something that kept the memories just beyond her reach. Hmm…she toyed with the fruit, picking one up and then another, gently pressing the flesh between her fingers. With a sigh, she motioned to the stall proprietor. He raised his head from his magazine and began to place lemons into a paper bag.
“Just a few,” she nodded. “For lemonade.”