It hurts that we can no longer have a decent conversation. Maybe they never were all that great, maybe they were always just about you with me on the sidelines. Maybe they just didn’t hurt before.
You’re a decent chap, i said. but he wasn’t. i was just trying to make him happy so he wouldn’t beat me up. and he likes british accents so…”I say, what a wonderful morning, old chap!”
The knock on the door startled her. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Jamie called back, “Are you decent?”
Cynthia rolled her eyes and opened the door, “Just come in.”
“I didn’t want to-” she cut him off mid-sentence with a kiss.
she looked well enough. not particularly beautiful, not particulaly ugly. she was pretty enough, dressed well enough, face made up enough. enough for her, at least. to the world, she was something else. something ethereal, celestial, a miracle of nature.
Her hands are callused and lined with the years. Sunspots speckle her brown skin like yellow flowers in a field. She smiles, and the creases of her face light up with earthy warmth.
“Are you decent?” my mother’s voice carried through the changing room’s curtain like a bolt of lightning lighting the way to the embarrassing teenage mess I was.
Chen was going to look over, I was sure. Then he’d recognize her, and then he’d recognize me when I came out of the room. Oh, god! And then he’d see the too-tiny, too-beige, too-cheap bras I was trying on. And then I could kiss that prom invite goodbye. Why are mothers always so embarrassing?
It was twenty minutes before the Christmas party. I felt like I looked pretty decent; my suit was clean and ironed, and my hair had defied expectations by not making me look like an untamed cockatoo for the first time in a while. Still, I added a little gel to the madness, and by the time I was heading out the door, it was already dark, and the nip in the air had mutated into quite the vicious and chilling bite.
This isn’t the most prestigious award I have ever received. It is decent though. The Best Use of a Semicolon in Flash Fiction. Wish I could remember what I wrote.
It hurts that we can no longer have a decent conversation. Maybe they never were all that great, maybe they were always just about you with me on the sidelines. Maybe they just didn’t hurt before.
You’re a decent chap, i said. but he wasn’t. i was just trying to make him happy so he wouldn’t beat me up. and he likes british accents so…”I say, what a wonderful morning, old chap!”
The knock on the door startled her. “Who is it?”
“It’s me,” Jamie called back, “Are you decent?”
Cynthia rolled her eyes and opened the door, “Just come in.”
“I didn’t want to-” she cut him off mid-sentence with a kiss.
My house is a decent size. There is enough room for everyone. My siblings make it messy. We each have decent sized rooms. But I have the bigger room.
she looked well enough. not particularly beautiful, not particulaly ugly. she was pretty enough, dressed well enough, face made up enough. enough for her, at least. to the world, she was something else. something ethereal, celestial, a miracle of nature.
Her hands are callused and lined with the years. Sunspots speckle her brown skin like yellow flowers in a field. She smiles, and the creases of her face light up with earthy warmth.
“Are you decent?” my mother’s voice carried through the changing room’s curtain like a bolt of lightning lighting the way to the embarrassing teenage mess I was.
Chen was going to look over, I was sure. Then he’d recognize her, and then he’d recognize me when I came out of the room. Oh, god! And then he’d see the too-tiny, too-beige, too-cheap bras I was trying on. And then I could kiss that prom invite goodbye. Why are mothers always so embarrassing?
It was twenty minutes before the Christmas party. I felt like I looked pretty decent; my suit was clean and ironed, and my hair had defied expectations by not making me look like an untamed cockatoo for the first time in a while. Still, I added a little gel to the madness, and by the time I was heading out the door, it was already dark, and the nip in the air had mutated into quite the vicious and chilling bite.
This isn’t the most prestigious award I have ever received. It is decent though. The Best Use of a Semicolon in Flash Fiction. Wish I could remember what I wrote.