I shake my head. I don’t think it’s a smirk, it’s an expression of concern, actually. Lost for words, I wrap my arms around my knees.
‘I know what it’s like to have your big plan blow up in your face, with things staying the same but getting worse.’
Would it be worse? Isn’t that what I want, for people to treat me like a person? Someone to laugh with, shout at, lean on, comfort, be silly with, fall in love with. Life’s not much fun when you’re surrounded by people who revere you.
Sorry again for the delay – I hope I’ll get the next one ready before I leave for the National Flash Fiction Day events this afternoon. In the meantime, check out the prompts for the Write-In and send us your stories – pretty please!
FlashFlood is open for submissions again, but only until 23.59 (BST) on Wednesday 24th June. So I suppose I’ll have to carve out some writing time even though I’m still on holiday. I hope many of you will submit, too.
Bad enough with the fire engine blocking the road, but it’s the parked cars that rile me most. Any excuse for not following the rules. I’d bet my savings there will be complaints to the council because I missed parts of the road. It’s that type of neighbourhood.
‘Dreadful, isn’t it?’ The woman’s standing on her doorstep, nursing a cup of tea.
‘Dreadful? Ain’t the word I’d use. How am I s’posed to sweep? And the soot. No picnic, cleaning soot.’
She gives me a funny look and goes inside – no doubt to watch my progress from behind her curtains.