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Sweet Charity

A flash fiction

She was. And then she wasn’t. And then she couldn’t.
But she knew she could. And she knew she shouldn’t.
But what else could she do?

So she did.
And she did it again.

And then she waited. And she listened.
And slowly…

…the words were aimed at her and not anyone or anything else.
The problems were due to her and her alone.

She became the focus of…

Well, of what?

And that’s where the problem lay. There was a problem and she’d been made to feel as if it was her problem but when it roared drunkenly across the room at her it looked like it wasn’t her problem at all. And the looks on people’s faces told her it wasn’t her fault either.

The problem was hate.
And cunning and concealment.

And spiking a drink with alcohol in order to prove all that to a roomful of people was the worst – and best – thing she’d ever done.

Despite the rumours.

3 Comments Post a comment
  1. Had to read it twice, but on the second reading – fabulous!


  2. It’s difficult for me to respond to this because it is so very personal to you. I guess that the best thing that I can say in print is that I’m always very moved by your writing.


  3. That a very good. I like the honesty she had with herself and I could feel the emotion.



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