Perfect Resistance





Image courtesy of Jellico’s Stationhouse

The late evening sun seemed to beam approval. Marie-Anne saw a large OK in the shadow of her bicycle wheel and its angular frame, projected on a whitewashed wall.
Antoine sprawled in his chair, eyes closed, legs stretched out in front of him.
He’d been magnificent, so calm as he blew the bridge, killing some of the bastards in the process and avenging her brother’s death.
“Do you want to sleep with me?”
“Because there’s a war on?” He asked, “Would you want to otherwise?”
She smiled and knew she loved him. “Because a perfect day needs a perfect close.”

Written for Friday Fictioneers – a 100 words story based on a photo prompt. Hosted by Rochelle. Read the other entries here.