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Weekly Contest #285
My chin rested on the windowsill, eyes fixed on the entrance of the cul-de-sac, waiting anxiously for Michele’s mom’s royal blue Saturn to round the bend. The late afternoon sun, fractured by shadows, tried its best to finish off the last of the thinning snow. Michael Hutchence, sultry on the stereo, was reminding me that something about my pudgy-yet-rapidly-developing eighth-grade body makes him sweat. Finally, she arrived! As Michele slammed the car door and headed up my lawn, I sprinted to the front door. Breathless (any bit of physical ...
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