This is an original fiction piece written for StoryADay September. Read more & follow here. Today’s story is based on the first part of my favorite short story, Anton Chekhov‘s “The Lady with the Little Dog“. It’s a retelling from the woman’s perspective, trying to capture Chekhov’s tone and style.
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I
Anna Sergeevna knew not whether to wear the beret again this day, as the dust and sun of Yalta were beginning to change its color. She looked at herself in the mirror that so many had peered in before and would thereafter. It had been hers for the past five days. What all had this mirror seen? What lovers had found themselves stealing a glance at the Other in this room; not at a person, but a reflection mediated by polished glass, preventing them from seeing the truest contours of human flesh. Anna scolded herself. Now was not the time for such sentimentalities. She decided to wear the beret. Putting it on reminded her of her husband’s feeblest attempts to cover his own shiny zenith that burned so easily. He was so self-conscious about it. But why? Not for what she may think about it–that much was certain. It was for all of them–all those that could provide medals, accolades, and honor. She realized then that this was the purpose behind his fortuitous side-whiskers: compensation. She believed his lack of hair made him distinguished-looking in certain lights; at certain, ephemeral moments where he may have said the right thing or noticed a different shade of rouge she had picked up on a whim. He was a lackey. These moments were few.
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the long way home 