For this week’s Thursday Inspiration prompt, Jim Adams has given us the word “light” and asked us to repond by writing about where a guy feels his woman means everything to him, and where he feels like his life is worthless without his woman being with him.
I wrote this piece of short fiction loosely based upon the Daryl Hall and John Oates 1975 song “Sara Smile.” The song was written about Daryl Hall’s then-girlfriend, Sara Allen, and it was their first major breakthrough hit in the U.S., reaching number 4 on the Billboard Hot 100.
Here is the story that came to mind when I listened to “Sara Smile.”
A soft rain drifted over the city the night Sara returned, the kind that blurred streetlights into halos and made memories feel closer than they should. I had almost convinced myself that I had imagined her — those quiet smiles, that way she could steady a room just by walking into it. But then, as I returned home to my apartment from a quiet dinner alone, there she was again, leaning in my building’s doorway as if she’d never left, her eyes carrying that familiar mix of warmth and mischief. “Hello, Frank,” was all she said.
She didn’t explain why she’d been gone so long. She never did. Instead, once we got inside my flat, she crossed the room, lightly touched my cheek, and the years between the two of us folded like paper. I felt an old, familiar calm settle in — the one she always brought with her. The one I’d tried so hard to forget.
We talked until the rain stopped. She laughed at my stories, softer than I remembered, as though something in her had been worn down by time. When she finally rose to leave, she paused, letting her fingers trail across my shoulder.
“You still make the world feel easy,” she whispered.
“Sara, wait,” I said. “If you feel like leaving, you know you can go, but why don’t you stay until tomorrow. If you wanna be free, you know all you got to do is say so.”
Sara smiled. “Okay, Frank, I’ll stay tonight, and I wish I could stay forever, but I must leave at the morning’s first light.”
When I woke up the next morning, she had already slipped away. But I could still feel her presence, her warmth. I heard the echo of her voice, and saw in my mind’s eye her unforgettable smile.
And then I thought about her quiet promise that she’d return again — whenever the world grew too heavy for her to carry it alone. It was then I knew that Sara and I would be together forever, even if only in my dreams.
Image conjured using Copilot.
Facts, Fictions & Fantasies 