Thank you, Alistair, for Sunday Photo Fiction. I think I am making it in before the deadline. (Last week I forgot to add my entry to Froggy. Ooops.) And, thanks for using my picture! That scene looks a lot different today. Maybe I’ll shoot a pic of its current state.

 

Do You Believe in Fairy Tales?

I’m all kinds of lost.

I guess fortune smiled when my elderly car hiccupped, coughed, spat dark smoke, then died outside of the small-town mechanics. Fortune stopped smiling when the mechanic wiped his hands on a rag, shook his head, and pronounced Ed the Eclipse dead.

I was stuck like Krazy Glue.

So, at four in the afternoon, cringing at the thought of asking for money from my father, who’d lectured me more than once about pursuing a career (he didn’t call it a career, no something far, far worse) in music instead of becoming a lawyer like him, I skulked into “G(r)in and Beer It” and climbed onto a barstool like the height-challenged woman I am.

The easy-on-the-eyes bartender watched me as if I were summiting Everest. His t-shirt said: No Trespassing. His smirk confounded an already bad day.

Obviously, I attacked. “So, your t-shirt.”

“Yeah?”

“Why?”

“I lost a bet.”

“It’s a cotton chastity belt.”

“What?”

“Your girlfriend says you’re off-limits.”

“No girlfriend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“No.”

I grinned. “So why?”

“Who’s asking?”

Raising an eyebrow, I waited.

He grumbled unintelligible words.

“What?”

“My sister said the first person who asked me about the shirt was my soulmate.”

 

end

2/24/2018

Sascha Darlington