Ah, Friday Fictioneers. The one event I do manage to write for. Thank goodness for Rochelle for making this happen and giving me some stability. 🙂
I’m so frustrated I could scream.
My parents just showed up. Have dinner ready?
A text. No call. I found it, three hours after he sent it because I’m disassembling the house so I can organize. Irony much?
Now his parents are going to think we live in a pig sty. I throw things thoughtlessly into the closet. I’ve got to vacuum and dust. Maybe I can get away without dusting.
I’m cursing his name, the day we met. Then the picture with broken frame tumbles to the carpet. Us. Hugging. I feel that smile like it was yesterday.