Sit With You for a While (Friday Fictioneers)


Hello Readers – It is time for an entry with Friday Fictioneers.

Rochelle (here) uses photo prompts that bloggers submit and this week she is using one of the ones I sent her. I took this photo specifically for Rochelle because when I looked down at this coffee table, I saw some “personality” here.

It has been a lot of fun to see the different author takes on the prompt so far. There has been hypocrisy, lung cancer, Raleigh coupons, Goldilocks/three-bears, etc. ( Later, I will add a few more links just for those who want to explore from here…)

Check these out:

Alice Audrey (here) included this: “…but the powder was already all blown when he got there.

Andrea (here) noted the magazine tag: “Lose 636% more abdominal fat” (636%????)

And my sweet friend, K-cubed – or K to the two – (Kelvin Knight HERE) gave a shout out to me in his title (and then eerily wrote an energized piece)



And by the way –

Sugar on the Bee’s post, Jar full of lighters, was riveting and partly inspired my 100 words in this post. I also wondered if anyone would address the lighters and she sure did! 

So did Kelly …

I have not even read half of the entries for this photo prompt yet, and I almost could not even write my own… that is how much fun it was reading the different takes. Seriously, even if you are not a “reader”  – I invite you to read some of the Friday Fiction entries – you won’t be disappointed. Or feel free to join…. stretch yourself a little and write some fiction this week (or not…).

Go here for info

And click the blue bar to see all the entries


Sit With you for a While (word count: 100)

Sometimes in life we speak up.

Take a stand, confront, and risk amity to try to help.

Speaking up feels like running into broken glass, but sometimes it’s needed, like dropping seeds that will help someone grow later.

Other times we don’t speak up.

Timing might be off or wounds are so layered that conversating is not even on the queue.

I love you.

And tonight,

I want to just


with you

for a while.

I’ll skip the shots of Crown, but smoke as much as you want.

In quiet togetherness, as equals, maybe I could just hold you.




Author’s Notes:

Today’s post was inspired by the many other authors who wrote pieces for this coffee-table photo that whispers so much. I was also inspired by this Jami Smith song I have been jamming to this summer.  It is a cover of Jernigan’s, “If could Just Sit with You for a While” – and the song starts with, “When I cannot feel, and my wounds won’t heal…”

I do not like Jernigan’s version, but Jami’s version is tasty.  Her voice, the arrangement, the quiet parts, etc. 

I guess Jernigan wrote this song about someone having cancer-  feeling bleak desperation.  And last year, my son’s friend’s step mother was diagnosed with cancer. She is now in hospice. It happened in a snap. I ache for her – for their family – and sometimes all we can do is just enjoy this day for what it has. Not second guess what we coulda, shoulda, or would’ve done…

Sometimes we need Grace, people.  Grace for our lot in life, grace for what we did or did not do, and grace to be “who we be.” Grace to maybe just sit with others for a while….



This coffee-table photo also reminds me of “Bartender” song by Lady Antebellum. Sometimes a shot (or a double-shot of Crown) is just what the doctor ordered (just saying…):








35 thoughts on “Sit With You for a While (Friday Fictioneers)

    1. Hi – thanks – it was not really meant to be an ending – I was more just trying to be in the present and rather than judge – just show love and share humanity – fir a while…

      thanks for the nice comment

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Well I hope not too sad – but yes, somber and heavy – and I guess sometimes life just has downpours for some folks – sometimes some folks have more downpours than others – ya know

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Aww this feels bitter sweet. I love the way we do not know why the narrator has kept silent for so long or how they came about this self-realisation but there is strength here. It’s a beautiful piece, Y, full of quiet strength, not overpowering, but just enough. I am swaying, my eyes closing.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Despite the strong imagery of running into glass – all too accurate for many conversation – this has such a kind, sweet feel to it.

    Thanks so much for the shout out. :*

    Liked by 2 people

  3. So many great lines in this – ‘Speaking up feels like running into broken glass,’ really stood out. Brilliantly done.

    Speaking up feels like running into broken glass,

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Fascintating take on the prompt. Well, it was your own picture, so I was curious what you saw in it. I liked it very much. As you say, the picture is an anatomy of a persoanlity

    Liked by 2 people

    1. thanks neil, and even though I submitted this for Rochelle to maybe use – I was surprised (in a great way) when it showed up and so I had nothing planned – and it actually flowed from reading other posts on the picture – and then a “walking into glass” current event – nothing major – but it all fit even with that summer song
      – thanks for the comment

      Liked by 1 person

    1. Sarah Ann – your comment reminds me of a quick summary –
      What did Prior write about?
      Oh – 100 word fiction about how ” – sometimes it’s necessary just to sit and be together.”
      Right on

      Liked by 1 person

  5. Dear Yvette,

    This puts me in mind of the term, “Companionable Silence” that a friend coined a few years back. Thought provoking photograph. Thank you for the loan.



    Liked by 1 person

    1. thanks for the comment, Rochelle, and that my friend, is a fantastic two words: “Companionable Silence”
      and thanks for using one of my submitted photos – I know you have a lot come in and so I am glad a Priorhouse image made the list.


  6. A moving and lovely piece of writing. Terrific closing line. And I am delighted that you kindly included a link to my Goldilocks tale, thank you, but I must pass the credit for incorporating the lighters to Jan Morrill. Much as I would love to keep Jan’s crown and wear it myself it wasn’t me who acknowledged lighters. A messy forest strumpet, but no lighters 🙂 Very best wishes, Jilly.

    Liked by 3 people

  7. I loved the melancholic feel of your story, Yvette. Even the title said so much. Thank you for your photo prompt. I’ve enjoyed reading the variety of stories it inspired. Thank you, too, for sharing “A Jar Full of Lighters.” ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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