Quitting meant more work for the rest of us, dunno, kinda good because more late nights led to more shared cab rides home and half-drunky fingers all up in there, and one day I'll tell Rory to at least take me out on a date. As the taxi pulled up to my building a few weeks later, and I am coming, Rory whispered in my ear that he'd heard Angelica was now living with her mother and was doing much better. She is, however, ineligible for rehire.
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A bit of a departure from things I'm usually wondering about in my cubicle. Day something-or-other of the 90-day microfiction challenge.
Love the rhythm of this. "it's too much like right to wait for the next car" and the way you put the question "and why were we always treating her so delicately" at the end of the statement.
Great voice. Love the 'half-drunky fingers'. Peace...
Well done, Erica. You show a good sense of voice in each of these pieces.
Still consistently good with these. I admire the 90-day challenge you've undertaken and cannot imagine being able to produce the work you've managed, and each one solid and strong.
I noticed reading this one that you have that nice ability to write in the first-person without cramming "I" done the reader's throat. Nice.
Thank you, everyone, for the kind and encouraging comments!
Vibrant piece! Love the voice.