Monday's Fiction in 58

Tactics
It wasn’t open for debate. It never was.
She’d put her foot down, said her piece and that was it.
He looked like a puppy that’s swatted with a rolled up newspaper, whites of his sad eyes upturned to gain a response.
She mussed his hair.
She wavered.
A crack in the armor.
He went on the offensive.

2 comments:

Hal Johnson said...

Tasty, funny, and just a little bit chilling.

Noah the Great said...

Maybe he'll unwrap himself. Or go in for the kill.