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.
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.