“That’s not how the game is played. You have to answer the question.” She sat back and clattered her freshly manicured nails on the Formica table.
He shifted on the seat and instead watched the steam rise from his coffee. “I don’t want to play.”
“Come on. It’ll be fun.”
He looked up. Her lipstick was smeared and the wrong color for her, she was wearing his shirt again. She’d ruined his favorite last week. Her side of the table was littered with torn sugar packets and a mosaic of leftover breakfast.
“Okay fine. I’d change everything about you.”
This has been an addition of the Friday Fictioneers, hosted by the kind and generous Rochelle. To read more flash fiction or to submit your own, click the blue froggy button.
Thanks to all who stop by, and a big special thanks to Rochelle for all the writers who participated in the What Pegman Saw Google Maps prompt this week. There’ll be a new one posting at midnight Friday.