So this isn't a Friday Figment, but my brain is tired from working on revisions. I felt like posting something though. This is from an old, self-imposed ten minute exercise--at least I'm staying true to the number 10!
Max dropped a soggy, black, used-to-be-brown paper bag on
the lunch table. It smelled horrible, like cheese that would kill you just from
looking at it. It reminded me of Max’s locker, and I wondered if that’s where
he got it from.
First warning
sign I stupidly missed: Max pulled his Oakley sunglasses out from his bush of black
and blond-streaked hair and actually set them on his nose.
These were
the glasses he ceremoniously swore would only serve him as an accessory, never
ever for practical use. Sounds strange, but that’s Max. Superstitious even when
it came to fashion. Especially when it came to fashion. And had I known any
better, I would have recognized that first warning sign and, well…
Run.
Far.
“We have a
problem,” he said.
“I’m not
giving you a single dime to buy a new lunch. Get rid of it.” The reek of the
thing got me gagging. Gagging in the middle of the cafeteria during Homecoming
Week while still dateless for it? Unacceptable.
“I can’t,”
he said.
“Pick it up
and drop it in the garbage. You’ll survive the fresh air in your locker
somehow.”
“This did not come from my locker, Cinder. What’re
you trying to say anyway?”
“I’m saying
that thing is toxic. Get it away from me.”
He leaned.
Whispered I can’t again. That was
warning sign number two, missed again because his leaning forced the regrettable
memory of our first (and-oh-so-last) go at kissing one another. Details are better
left unsaid for now.
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