‘When this is over there’s going to be one hell of a party,’ Barry said, throwing a tennis ball off a wall.
‘If there’s a hell of a party,’ Sally said, ‘it’ll just re-set the clock and we’ll have to isolate all again.’
‘I don’t care. It can be an end of the fucking world party. As long as it’s a party. An epic one.’
‘Trust you to dream of being a selfish prick.’
‘Me and ninety percent of the population.’
‘People will die so you can letch.’
‘God, you’re such a party-pooper, Sally. Lighten up.’
‘Only if you grow-up.’
A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.
1 comment:
Maybe selfish - definitely selfish - but I think plenty of people are already dreaming of the party they'll have/go to when this is all over. Nicely done, Rob
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