Evolution #amwriting

So many, many thanks as always to the multi-talented and wonderful, Rochelle, for providing us with Friday Fictioneers!



I have made sure all elements of the evening are perfect, as Wyatt requested. Tastefully decorated tree. Choral music. Pomegranate martinis.

Air kisses abound.

Ed pats my arm. “Another virtuoso celebration.”

I smile into my glass; that’s when I see her, scarlet nails caressing Wyatt’s forearm, him leaning to whisper, but lips on lobe instead. Straightening, my stomach becomes a glass Vesuvius.

Who is she? Colleague? The late-night explanation?

The scarlet-nailed hand slides to his posterior.

In another life, I’d rampage. In this one, I flee toward a drenching night where sad-eyed, old friend Ed waits, umbrella aloft.


Sascha Darlington

addendum: I am trying to catch up on/keep up with everything, which means that I’m struggling with writing as well as offering feedback and I apologize for that. So know that if I haven’t visited you, it’s not a purposeful omission. As the road to parts other suggests, I have the best of intentions.


36 replies »

    • It’s funny, you’ve made me think. Fighting between men is all punching and swearing. Fighting between women is frequently tears and hair pulling, which is never pretty…not that the men’s is either. But women come out vulnerable. Something to explore, perhaps.
      Thanks so much for reading, James!

      Liked by 1 person

  1. “Glass Vesuvius” – wonderful – and she has given her time and devotion to Wyatt only to see the scarlet-fingernailed one come along and metaphorically shove her aside. That’s when you need an Ed, of course.


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