Pete Armstrong

Pizza Parlour

I parked my car in the usual spot. How many years had it been since I was last here? It was when the children were small, of course, longer ago than seemed possible. The small pizza parlour was still there, and I walked towards it with a softly thumping heart. It was absurd to come this far out of town on my brief visit back. There was no point in trying to convince myself that it was for pizza or nostalgia. It was to see her again…

Distinguished Writer of the ArtAscent Sensuality call for entry. To see the full body of work, grab a copy of the ArtAscent Art & Literature Journal Sensuality issue.

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