I was going to just mention this in my original entry to Friday Fictioneers, but this one’s too good not to re-blog. No one dies, there’s no revenge plot, and no poisoned chalice — just a desperate woman who needs to pay her rent. What an amazing narrative voice. You must take 5 minutes to read this and give some feedback, darlings.
(Copyright Janet Webb)
It started to snow around three this morning as I walked home from work. By ten, six inches lay on the ground; by noon, eight.
I did my roots and nails. Put on my low-cut red dress. Outlined my eyes and lips in matching shades. Slipped into six-inch stilettos. I looked great. Then I sat down on the bed and watched the snow fall as my Johns stayed warm in the arms of their wives.
Rent’s due tomorrow. There’s bread and peanut butter in the cupboard. And as for me, I got a bad case of the Snow White Blues.
(Written for Friday Fictioneers, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. February 14, 2014.)