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Weekly Contest #270
The cat meowed, the dog barked and I cried. Or I was trying to cry, the wild winter wind was so harsh, it made of my deeply dramatic moment a mockery. I was supposed to have a beautiful flushed face and dainty teardrops on my cheeks, but I just looked like an idiot with my eyes squinted and lips cracked. I was also really hungry. I rose like the prettiest rose, kissed by a heavenly sunrise in a time lost long ago, in a Victorian era, when beauty was appreciated beyond words, loved to the point of creation. My type of beauty. My mother used t...
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