Saturday, April 23, 2011

100 words: Dirty dishes, potty mouth.

The broken plate lay in wait under the sudsy water. When she reached in for the next dish, she was thinking about the meeting with Darla's teacher, wishing she hadn't said "shit" by accident, wishing he hadn't looked so shocked. People swear; get over it.
The broken plate sliced her finger, cutting the fleshy tip. "Shit!" she muttered, her hand recoiling out of the water. Blood ran down her finger and across her palm. She paused, a slow smile, a shake of the head. A bandage for her finger, but there was obviously nothing to be done about her mouth.



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