Writing was her way of expressing herself. Replacing loneliness and quiet desperation. Until she met him. He loves and understands her completely. Words to explain this new found happiness escape her. She's used to a darker vocabulary.
"What's the matter babe?" he asks.
"Stop making me so bloody happy so I can write something," she replies.
Flash Fiction - Each Friday, I compose a short story of 55 words - no more, no less. If you would like to join in the fun and games... post your story and report to the boss -
If you're not interested in contributing a story, feel free to read the other entries. I'm sure any comments you have would be appreciated.
Happy reading and writing!