Below is a writing prompt taken from Fiber Fiction's blog. I designed the website so I thought I might participate in a flash fiction challenge! For more information on Fiber Fiction see the post below or better yet visit their blog!
Samantha sighed contentedly as she looked into the eyes of her true love. Harry had beautiful eyes that were blue like the ocean and full of emotion. Crows feet marred the edges but did nothing to tarnish his looks. No, Harry was a handsome man, even after fifty years of marriage.
Fifty short years. A hundred wouldn't have been enough for Samantha. She sighed again as she lifted Harry's photograph from her lap and placed it back on the mantle.
She turned to the dining table where her sewing materials awaited her, along with the jacket that was a part of Harry's good suit. The women at church would call her selfish for what she was about to do, but she couldn't part with this particular item. The church rummage sale would have to find another suit.
Samantha ran her hands over the fabric to press out the wrinkles. She ignored the tiny stain on the lapel where he'd spilled red wine during their anniversary dinner this past Spring. After the wine had dried, he'd spun her around the dance floor just as he had on their wedding day. His arms around her had always made her feel special.
Now she'd make something special out of this. Samantha placed the scissors to the fabric. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Ever so slowly she squeezed the handles. The fibers strained then finally gave as she made the first cut. Looking down, she knew there was no turning back. She began cutting out the perfect square.
When she was done, she turned to the table beside her where hundreds of little squares were spread out. This one she placed in the very center. Stepping back, she surveyed what would become her quilt. Tears filled her eyes. Dark patches of black, brown and blue formed a heart in the center. The patches that surrounded the heart were a myriad of different colors and fabrics, all taken from dresses she'd worn dancing with him.
She'd call it the Dancing Quilt. On cold days when she was feeling most alone, she'd wrap herself up tight and once again go dancing with Harry.