Time to drift free

‘You’re just going to let things slip away?’ Jason lifted the suitcase onto the guesthouse bed.

‘They’ve been slipping away for years, dear. It’s time to drift free.’

‘But what about me?’

‘You’re twenty-two; you expect me to stay with him for your sake?’

‘No, for your sake. Mum, do you really want to start over again?’

‘The reward for years of unhappiness is not more of the same’

‘No. But maybe … you used to be happy.’

‘Used to, but not anymore. This is the only way I might be again.’

‘And Dad?’

‘It’s the same for him, dear.’

 

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

Second shot

‘Would you like a sample, Sir?’ Heidi waved the perfume bottle.

‘Wow, Helen Jacobs,’ the American boomed.

‘Heidi. How can …’

‘I always wondered … You were terrific in After the Storm.’

‘I don’t know …’

‘And here you are, working in an airport shop! So?’

‘Please, people are staring.’

‘So they should; you should have been a star.’

‘Clearly not.’

‘Look, I’m making a series for Netflix. You’d be perfect for the mother.’

‘I sell perfume.’

‘You’re an actor between jobs.’

‘I don’t ...’

‘And you’ve just landed a job.’

‘Is this a prank?’

‘This is a second shot.’



A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

Inner beauty

As Tom bounded up Sylvie scanned the room looking for an exit.

‘Wow! You were magnificent.’

‘I’m not joining your team.’

‘I bet your husband hasn’t won an argument since he met you!’

‘Besides not having a husband, I don’t live my life as a debate.’

‘But you have it to an art form! It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.’

‘According to Twitter I’m a dishevelled version of Susan Boyle.’

‘I’m talking inner beauty!’

‘So, I …’

‘I’m trying to give you compliments here.’

‘What do you want, Tom?’

‘D’you fancy dinner?’

‘…’

‘Wow, struck dumb! But do I want the riposte!’

 

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

This is the end

Matt toppled a pile of books onto the floor.

‘Just, stop.’

Chess pieces flew from their board.

‘I need this to end.’

‘What?’

‘Us. This. Whatever this is. I love you, but I hate myself when I’m with you.’

‘Huh?’

‘I need to love, even just like, myself. This … this is too self-destructive.’

‘You just said you love me.’

‘It’s not a healthy love, Matt. It’s all lies and silence and walking on eggshells. All we do is fight, sulk, kind of make-up, then repeat. It’s not good for either of us.’

‘Carrie?’

‘Sorry, Matt. This is the end.’

 

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words