The morning after, Sharla cracked open her bloodshot eyes. Crusty drool. Polluted breath. Throbbing head. Telltale signs of certain impropriety. Peeking over her shoulder, she cringed at the mystery mass burrowed under the sheets.
She remembered last night’s music and dancing, a celebration of her sister’s marriage. The fifth tequila shot erased the lines of decorum.
Braced for the shock, Sharla yanked back the sheet and groaned at the innocent pile of pillows. She giggled in relief. Awkward moment avoided.
The toilet flushed and, wearing only a smile, the groom’s father emerged.
“I better go. My wife will be wondering.”
This was written for Friday Fictioneers photo prompt. I missed last week as I couldn’t conjure up any motivation. I seem to be in a writing slump. My story ideas have taken a leave of absence. To be honest, I’m not happy with this week’s story, but I had to try to jump-start my creativity. Maybe this will fix me. Now that I’ve whined a little, the good news is I clocked in at exactly 100 words.
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