#MicroFiction

He wasn't interested. Fortunately, she wore the kind of perfume that made you switch sides

Strange, but True

Because I know you're reading this
I've lost the ability to write

Kitten

Her small form seemed to sink into the corner of his couch, she was
slowly disappearing into it. The short crop of her black hair, the black
lace and the clothes that covered her tiny frame made her look like a
kitten; dangerous, by young and playful, with only a little menace. He
crossed the room towards her, inviting her to dance with him. But she
kept sitting, curled up yet attentive, sharp yet mild; and still as the
air, like a snake in the grass.

Knives of Ice

She stood in the river, the water like knives of ice freezing her veins,
the cold river bed a few feet beneath her thighs. She didn't know
whether to cross or to go forward or to move to the left or right or to
run to the hills or hide beneath the trees. There was no one around to
ask and she'd lost her map long ago. Terror was slowly seizing her, even
as the sweet possibility of hope floated on the breeze. Yet, she stood
there, constantly eroded by the river and gently calmed by the breeze.