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Weekly Contest #99
They knew the arrangement: three months exactly. Nothing more, nothing less. This is what they thought about whilst staring into the milky sunrise. The pale yellow of the 5AM sun mingled with the crisp white of the cotton clouds and blanketed the two in sorrow. Three months exactly. * June. The clock reads 6.34PM. Oh God! She blurts, dragging a limp plastic comb through her long, thick hair. He should know by now that when Mia says she will be ready on time, she is always almost certainly lying. She pats a light shimmering powder onto her...
Weekly Contest #76
Saturday 27th September. There is only one stop sign in Paris. Everything is chaotic. People are always in a rush. The middle-aged man that sprints through the streets, meandering in and out of the way of people, cars, market stalls. Skinny latte in one hand- gripped sternly in a desperate attempt not to spill- newspaper in the other. He wears a long, beige trench coat, stiff black trousers ,and shiny black shoes. Typical, I mutter. The time reads 8.39 and, ordinarily, he is late. The older woman in the blue Renault Clio. It is not the ordin...
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