Snowflakes float lazily as she begins shouting. I do not fight back, and this infuriates her. Crystalline water sparkles in angled sunlight, like the shining stone in her ring that bounce bounce bounces on the floor.
She leaves tire tracks in the driveway, a bit of rubber on the street. Her suitcase, her car are gone, and so is she.
Fat wet flakes fall, coating my hair in age, weariness, fear. They come down down down and fill in the tracks with a coat of purest white.
For a little while, I can forget. For a little while, I pretend.
This week’s Weekly Challenge is up, and you can read my entry (as always) below and hear it by itself. Of course, feel free to listen to the whole podcast and read the rest of the stories at the 100 Word Stories site (adult tag) and vote for my story – or any others you deem worthy – as well.