They meet on the Orient Express, two sweet young things squeezing past each other in the cupid corridor, soon exchanging mmmmsweetnuthin’s (and more) in her narrow bunk. Exotic scenery ignored.
Later the rushed honeymoon – back to Istanbul (of course), tickets in hand. All aboard! Erotic rhythm on shiny steel tracks. Conception inevitable.
Flash forward. They return to resuscitate the passion, heal wounds, put aside hurts and infidelities. The coaches are shabby, the meals dull, the bunk too narrow. Time is unkind.
Before they even reach reach Paris they’re agreed. Divorce, not murder.
They text their lovers: “Game on!”
Back from travels and written for Rochelle Wisoff-Fields’ Friday Fictioneers 100 word challenge.