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
Maybe next time. Yeah. He might have ruined a good novel too.
ReplyDelete:) am glad we are on same page about iur thoughts for him.
DeleteThank you for stopping by.
I hope she has a pitcher of cold water waiting to pour on him. Maybe next time indeed.
ReplyDeleteGreat take on the prompt.
:) may be she had but for her mother's sake she didn't pour it on him.
DeleteThank you so much.
How sad, her book was more interesting. Well, as she says, maybe next time! Well done!
ReplyDelete:) ah if only you could marry books.
DeleteThank you so much Yolanda
Sounds like he was really late! Fingers crossed for the next time.
ReplyDeleteYeah maybe she can really be persuaded next time.
DeleteThank you so much Alistair
Those men, always showing up a the most inopportune moment!
ReplyDeleteI so agree with you, Daniel.
DeleteDear Ruby,
ReplyDeleteSounds like she needs a change.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Desperately and definitely.
DeleteThank you Rochelle