Dasey Drabble – 100 words. No ownership implied.
Friday afternoon, six weeks from graduation. Bleak rain everywhere.
Space-Case demands a ride home after rehearsals. I panic. Mutter, 'Go bug someone else…'
It's her mouth. (And her body. Her reckless affection. And the implausibly amusing things she says.)
I can't have this stepsister of mine so close to me.
I watch her in the rear-view, standing forlornly clutching her books.
Then I'm reversing; tyres furious; braking, my breathing shallow.
'Get in.' Her eyes meet mine and catch delicious fire.
'You came back.' She whispers. Wet, but so…. happy. Because of me.
So what if I can't breathe?