I was trying to write flash fiction this morning and this is what came out.
He thought that was the end of it. She left on a Thursday, drove off in his 84′ Camry with the stupid (make) love letter riding shotgun and his actual shotty in the trunk. She had no idea what she was getting into, wouldn’t listen to his explanations or even stop to consider the consequences.
She just had this idea stuck i
n her head. She was talented, of course. A businesswoman? Absolutely. An entertainer? One of the best. But queen of actual bars? He couldn’t get with it.
He pushed the little phone icon once more only to get her voicemail again. It’s been 21 hours since she came for her. 12 since he heard anything from her. Her mother had been blowing his phone up, asking him if he’s heard anything, confiding in him that she begged her to stop playing with barbies and be serious. She just wouldn’t listen.
Reminisce sent everything she had after her. She was brutal and connected every shot. Now pop barbie’s fans are reminiscent of a bubble gum flavored career with a clown flow.
He shook his head. He hoped she’d be okay.