Turning edges

She lived a life that some would describe as being on edge: the edge at a corner to be precise.

Starring unseeingly beyond the cloud of thick nicotine fog into a dark future contorted by disillusion and charred picket fences. She was the poster girl for broken dreams.

Flicking the cigarette stub in the bin she approached the dressing table, time to get ready. First, foundation, then concealer. Slowly her transformation into an innocent sexual minx was complete, all that was left was a faded pink lipstick perfect to offset her dark bold eyes.

Putting on the dark purple jumpsuit she smiled, it was perfect: tight enough to entice, understated enough to elude memory shortly after. For her target, however, the memory would linger beyond the clothes if only for a while.

No more penny chasing: tonight the edge turns a corner, a sharp corner. What was it they said about branching out …

© 2015, Barbara W. Beacham

Written by Chioma I.N

In response to the mondaysfinishthestory flash fiction challenge hosted by Barbara. The picture and the first sentence are provided and you have to complete the story in 100- 150 words. Click on the link to read others stories. Thanks Barbara for providing the picture.

Also written for the nablopomo challenge day 2.

Thank you for stopping by.

21 thoughts on “Turning edges

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