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.
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.
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