GirlFrmMars

She was at the club, letting her hair down and breaking in a new pair of heels. She’d played pool, chatted with the bartender; had spent a lot of time on the dance floor. She could feel him watching her. He eventually caught up to her, grabbed her by the wrist, “Hey.”

“Hi.”

“You didn’t see me?”

“No, I saw you.”

“And didn’t say hi?”

“You have company tonight.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

They stood there a minute, she looked down at his hand on her wrist.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he said.

She freed herself, “Not tonight.”

 

A drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.

She was feeling lost, empty. It had been nearly four days. Suddenly, the texts came flooding in.

“Where r u?”

“Can we talk?”

“Y won’t u call me bak?”

“This isn’t just about us anymore.”

“Please. I need to know what’s happening.”

They were all from him. She knew things were getting serious, he had begun spelling his words out properly and fully.

She tried to respond. Once, twice, three times. But the words weren’t coming. There was nothing left to say.

She switched her mobile off, and buried it at the bottom of her bag. She’d try again tomorrow.

 

A drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.

“Another package from your secret admirer?” Her friend gestured towards the wrapped box she was holding.

“I guess so.”

“Well, are you going to open it?”

She turned the package over, “I guess?”

“Wait!  In case it’s a bomb.  Or a plague or something.” Her friend moved to the other side of the office, “Okay, open it.”

“You honestly think three feet of distance will protect you from the plague?” She tore the wrapping off and opened the box.

“Well? What is it?”

“It’s… Uh…a framed photo of his junk.”

“Ooh, how romantic.” Her friend paused, “Well, let me see it!”

 

A drabble is a short work of fiction of one hundred words in length¹.