Monday, 7 April 2014

F is for Frosted

wiki commons
The commute was nearly an hour and despite his determination to leave on time it was almost seven before he swiped his pass card at the exit gate and pulled out onto the dual carriageway. Traffic was at least quieter by this time and he settled back comfortably in his seat and flicked the switch on the radio. Pete whistled softly along with the song and realised it was the one they had once danced to at the school disco. The warm smile faded abruptly from his lips as his brain made swift and unbidden calculations and a terrible sinking feeling crept over him. He had forgotten. And he knew that she would not. Flowers, he thought, but dismissed it immediately. She would see right through a cheap bunch of supermarket flowers and know it was a belated token. He would just have to go home and face the consequences. It was a long and dreadful hour, and it was almost a relief when he turned into the drive and the car headlights swept across the front of the house. His footsteps crunched across the gravel and he took a calming breath as he put his key in the lock. For a moment he thought it was stuck; he pushed firmly, but the door remained stubbornly closed. 

(Words for my flash fiction A to Z supplied spontaneously by Monkey)
(Linking back to the A to Z challenge)


  1. Gosh! I wish I could write fiction. I've been reading all of your A to Zs just now. Brilliant!

  2. Working my way through your posts, like your writing style.

    Curling Stones for Lego People


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