My flash fiction:
Ice tinged wind scrapes my face, a fitting herald. Once inside, empty eyes and cold smiles top prim versions of the latest fashions. The woman who’s undoubtedly been assigned to welcome newcomers approaches. My replies to her small talk questions become progressive more outrageous till her facade cracks into a genuine smile. Perhaps there’s hope.
9 comments:
Bravo!!!
Humour has diffused many a precarious situation and relaxed many a pretentious buttwad.
Love ya girl!
xoxo
You know, that gift of charm is so rare. Don't let up on the stiff faces, eh?
Where there's lunch, there's hope.
i so want to arrive at some prim tea party on the back of red molly with you.
this was nice amiga, i want some tea now
I bet you could make the exhibits at Madame Tussards smile.
OMG You had to do a LUNCHEON?
:O
LUNCHEONNNNNN
LUNCHEONNNN
LUNCHEONNNN!!!!
Croly HAP! How do you DO that? I am impressed. As usual. And I am sticking with what Joe says.
I hope. I hope.
Wow. You packed a lot into 55 words!
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