In a bit of a rush for this week’s Friday Fictioneers. We’ve got two thirds of the grandchildren contingent with us for half-term so I’ve not much time to think or evaluate my piece. This is a very un-nanna like contribution, so thankfully they’re occupied on the other computer. 😉
“I’m not like that.”
“Yeah, right.” She turned away.
“I don’t know why I’ve got this reputation, I’m an OK kind of guy. I commit to people.”
“I’d heard you’d shag road-kill if it were still warm,” she snapped.
He spread his palms in mock indignation. “One sheep… that’s all.”
The humour fell flat, and his shoulders slumped.
“Sorry, since my mother died I…..” he faltered, turning away.
“Oh I’m really sorry…” She caught his sleeve. “Maybe just one drink then.”
Just a matter of finding the right bait, he thought, admiring her ass on the way to the door.