Jessi, Bets, and Maria

A microfiction inspired by a photo I once took

The three were — would always be — dear friends; no envy or spite marred their love for one another.

True, as outsiders often noticed these days: the youngest, Jessi, got all the attention from passersby. She had not (yet) withered with age; she (still) had all her “pretty bits,” as they called them, laughing. She drew suitors like a magnet. But the other two, oh yes, they'd had their moments in the sun: as they all knew, once upon a time, Jessi had been the half-formed hanger-on. Once upon a time, Bets — the oldest — had been the ravishing beauty. Once upon another time — until irreparably damaged by an abuser — Maria had been the one embracing admirer after admirer. Now, it was simply Jessi's turn. So none of that superficial stuff mattered. They loved one another, their futures remained bound together. Someday, they'd all wither and drop. They'd be gone...

But somehow, strangely, they knew: the simple fact that they once had been there, and together, would always matter.