The words over at Three Word Wednesday at enemy, shatter and vague. Let’s try for a Drabble, 100 words and out. And no firearms for Miss Peachy-Plums. Sheesh.
She was a cold dish, distant, back-ally frigid.
Her heart, yeah, her heart glowed.
Mist clung to her hair, dripped off scarred earlobes as vague thoughts, redemption, cluttered her resolve. She brought her brown eyes into focus, re-channeled the rage, chilled.
Lives shatter for less.
Pick up the pieces.
He wasn’t just the enemy. He was everything she’d grown to hate. The rehab. The looks at the puckered skin, the hasty stitched grafts.
She was a cold dish. Learned all she needed efficiently, wrote nothing down. Flash pots, simple switches.
He wouldn’t die.