12 Days, 12 Stories, each 200-300 words. The contest theme is gifts and each day has a prompt. Today's is:
“It was carnations last time. Cheap, roadside shit. Now it’s lilies – lilies? I mean, seriously, do I look like a corpse? I thought I’d got a death threat. No, he’s a fuckwit. He’s got to go.” Charlene’s red tipped fingers moved expertly over her client’s silvered hair, smoothing and fluffing.
Ethel sat calmly, watching the hairdresser in the mirror. “Perhaps he meant well, dear. It’s the thought that counts.”
“The thought? How much thought do you think went into that wilting bloody funeral wreath? Tiffany’s bloke bought her perfume last week you know – and roses. Roses! That’s a proper flower.”
Ethel’s eyes moved behind her thick glasses. “Have you told him how you feel?”
“What do you think? You gotta set them straight or they think anything’s acceptable. I told him to fuck off.”
“Did he take it well?”
“Jamie?” Charlene laughed, though her face didn’t crease. Botox must have bought rights to the girl’s face, Ethel thought. It didn’t look natural. Hard, more. A hard face, for a heartless girl. “He’s too fucking wet. He cried – can you believe it? What kind of man bursts into tears when he’s dumped? Jesus I should have got rid of him months ago. There, what do you think?”
“Very nice, dear.” Ethel nodded. She shuffled to her feet. “If you could just get me my purse?”
“Sure,” Charlene clipped away.
Ethel stared at the glass of water the woman had been sipping as she worked. Lilies were for funerals, Charlene was right about that. It was why she’d suggested Jamie bought them for the girl. She’d known even then that her grandson deserved better. Flicking open her oversized ring, she emptied the powder into the glass.
She’d never believed in half measures.
|CC image by walkinonsunshine|