You leaned over me, something concealed behind your back. I looked at the floor, tears blurring my vision.
“I’m so, so sorry,” you said, thrusting a small succulent towards me, its delicate pink phallic tip drooping.
“Wha-a-a-t?” I slapped my hand over my mouth, unable to stifle my laughter.
COPYRIGHT: Magz Morgan 2019
Want to participate? This month it's 50 words, deadline June 30th.
Go to the World Writers' Collective here in Melbourne or their Facebook page. The winner is indicated by a gold cup.
The word count changes every month up to a maximum of 1,000 words, down to a minimum of ??? $5 per non-member entry; $20 annual membership.