Richard was ecstatic. He’d just picked up his ‘Russian bride ‘, and they were headed home; their home. Valentina  smiled shyly. Her English was stilted, but still fairly good.
He knew that she would overlook his tall tales of royalty. He’d only stretched the truth…a little.
When they arrived, she still smiled and nodded approvingly. Great.
“Toilet please?”, Valentina enquired.
“Outside”, he pointed, happily.
Moments later, a piercing scream ripped through the air.
Richard looked up just in time to see Valentina tearing back through the kitchen, grabbing her bags and hurtling through the front door.
He sighed. Next time he’ll get a poorer woman.

©Vivian Zems

Friday Fictioneers with Rochelle Wisoff 

Photo prompt : ©What’s His Name

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