02 August 2016

The Disgraceful Widow

For Prediction Fiction here
This weeks words: wake, envelop, hem

They were envious or scared of her, these neighbours/friends/crows, none of them actually liked her. At Jordan’s wake they were muttering, about her appearance and how well things had turned out for her “if you know what I mean”
So what if her hem was mud-sodden, her make up slipping? She had loved Jordan, loved his kindness and knowledge and his faith in her ability to do better, to be better.
Jealous witches, the lot of them.
She’d put her brave face on and show them.
Right after sinking into the enveloping warmth of this whisky.
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