She didn’t look up the details of suitors now. This one was, anyways, late. Prejudice was beginning to blur the rationale. She moseyed through the labyrinth and watched the dying sun. Tired of enduring the cliché, phony, glamour of the shopping-plaza, she typed a goodbye and then back-spaced it. She knew she couldn’t, rather, wouldn’t hit the send button. Not with mom’s words resonant, “Maybe this time, you can be persuaded otherwise”. She bought a bestseller from a peddler and was halfway through the sixth chapter when he arrived. A familiar wave of ennui spread through her.
Maybe next time…
|Courtesy: Friday Fictioneers|
Linking with : Friday Fictioneers