'I think you'd better sit down,' Mary said.
Kenny dropped into an armchair. 'I take it this is bad news.'
'It depends on how you look at it.'
'Bad then. Go on.'
'I'm pregnant.'
'You're ... how the hell did that happen?'
'How do you think?'
'But you're forty five!'
'And still fertile. And so are you. Two bottles of wine and no protection and ...'
'Jesus.'
'Is that all you've got to say? Jesus?'
'What do you want me to say?'
'I don't know? That you're over the moon. That it'll be okay.'
'I ... a baby ... Jesus.'
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
3 comments:
Rob - Oh, well-done! You do such an elegant job with dialogue!
I thought for sure you were going to end it with. "No, that's the baby's name. Jesus."
Thanks Margot. Patti, the last line is my favourite of the piece. A kind of death toll.
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