I had fun with today’s #FFC52 flash fiction prompt for Thain in Vain. I pounded out words until realized I was at 550. ::sad panda:: My wife stands ready to go for our evening bike ride, but she knows I had to cut this down to 500 words. Hey Eilidh, how about getting these up a little earlier? I’d be happy if you switched and posted the prompt in the morning and the last weeks submissions in the evening…
* * *
“I’m surprised you’re not higher up in the organization for a woman your age.”
“I do all right for myself.” I retorted.
“Do the awards hanging on your walls truly reflect your skills?”
Piercing eyes sized me up and I felt self conscious.
“No ring? A career girl, then.”
I crossed my arms and hid my left hand.
“You’ve been single a long time.”
I scowled, “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know you don’t like me because I command respect. I do more than simply report the story. I make the story. I am the story.”
I sat there on my side of the glass, mute.
“If you write enough, people might take you seriously. Then what? The Pulitzer?”
I leaned back and smiled. “I suppose you have all the answers then?”
“You’re not important. At least not without me.”
I scoffed. “You’d be content if just one person would want you, but that’s not possible on that side of the glass.”
“I suspect you’re the same. All those men at work? They’re not interested, are they? Like you’re invisible. Does anyone see you?”
I chuckled. “No matter what you do. No matter how much you want it, at the end of the day it’ll be just you. Alone.”
“Maybe. But I’ll tell you a secret: I see you.”
My heart raced.
“I always get what I want.”
I could feel my cheeks flush.
“Another secret: I’ll be leaving here soon.”
My hands shook as I got up and walked to the door of the visitor’s area.
“You okay, Miss?” The guard asked as I turned in my visitor’s pass.
“Thanks, but I’m fine.” I lied.
She stared at me for the briefest of moments before pressing a button allowing my egress from the prison.
* * *
I awoke to the sound of breaking glass. I opened the drawer to my nightstand as silently as I could. I retrieved the Beretta 9mm and ratcheted the slide.
If some asshole thinks they can rob me, they’re in for a surprise. I thought as I padded out my bedroom door and positioned myself at the top of the stairs.
I crept down the stairs, my weapon pointing where I went. I heard noises from the kitchen and allowed my Beretta to lead me.
I pushed the kitchen door open with my gun and saw a figure foraging, silhouetted by the harsh light of my refrigerator.
“Freeze, motherfucker!” I shouted.
The figure stood up straight and without turning said, “I figured a journalist such as yourself might have a better stocked fridge. I haven’t had decent food in three years.”
The voice… falsetto?
My heart fluttered. “Turn around.” I commanded.
The perpetrator walked to me with a swagger and arrogance I had seen earlier that day.
“I told you I always get what I want.”
She brushed errant hair covering my eyes and kissed me passionately on the lips.
I felt her hot breath on my ear. “Let’s write that story now.”