If only the world smelled of Smarties
I swear, the air Tuesday night smelled this sweet. I based a Fiction in 58 on it.
Sweets
Teeth clenched, he leaves work, rips off the tie that’s choked him all day and casts an evil-brow glance at the setting sun.
He feels like hitting; he kicks a dented aluminum can, sends it skittering. Rage raises pin-pricks in his stomach.
He breathes deep; the air smells of Smarties, fruity, sweet.
He breathes again, tastes, smiles.
Sweets
Teeth clenched, he leaves work, rips off the tie that’s choked him all day and casts an evil-brow glance at the setting sun.
He feels like hitting; he kicks a dented aluminum can, sends it skittering. Rage raises pin-pricks in his stomach.
He breathes deep; the air smells of Smarties, fruity, sweet.
He breathes again, tastes, smiles.
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