I watch them from afar, pretending that i read the Times. it’s bound to happen soon; It always does; I only leave to chance for whom.
Well-planned karma is my MO.
I stir the tepid coffee; each turn another heart-beat; breath controlled.
The blonde is getting ready; I see the signs; she scans the diner for the restroom.
I put a fiver on the bar and leave my seat to pee. Aroused I find my preselected spot.
“Tack, Tack”, stiletto heels on concrete.
Suddenly I’m on my back, a rope around my neck.
“Karma is a bitch”
A long time since I did a grim story with a twist. I hope it works and made you a bit surprised.
Rochelle gathers us around the same picture every week and we struggle to find that unique angle (or maybe less so) in 100 words. The fun is called Friday Fictioneers.
May 17, 2017