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Weekly Contest #236
“I just don’t see what the problem is,” Jared frowned. I glared at him. “You don’t,” I asked him monotonously. My arms were folded across my chest, and I was tapping the toe of my black, patent leather stiletto heel on the brand new vinyl flooring in our kitchen. You look defensive and impatient, I heard my mother’s voice criticize, followed by a few disappointed tsks. Self-conscious now, I uncrossed my arms and planted my hands on my hips. Too confrontational, my mother’s voice scoffed in my head. I had finally settled on twirling my pearl ...
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