Speed Dating
"Definitely not marriage material," Angelica muttered, folding her Christian Dior sunglasses and sliding them into a pocket of her Louis Vuiton purse. Not with his crazy haystack of red hair, those freckles, and that droopy right eye that seemed to twitch every time she glanced across the table.
And the odor! She wrinkled her nose. My god, had he just stepped off the farm? The barnyard aroma preceded him by a good ten feet when he walked through the room to meet her.
Angelica noticed a tiny piece of lint on her new black, Vera Wang dress and flicked it onto the floor with a perfectly manicured nail. Sighing, she pushed her chair back, picked up her purse, and rose to leave. Why waste the time? They were probably all like this one -- losers. A quick scan of the room confirmed her suspicions.
He stood up, his hand out to shake. "But we haven't even exchanged names," he said, reaching over the table.
"Why bother?" Angelica scowled, stepping back to size him up. She glanced down at his shoes. Could it be? Her breath quickened. Were those $750 Gianni Versaces peeking out from under the ragged cuffs of his faded Levis?
Hmmm. . .
Maybe he deserved a closer look.
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how do you know so much about fashion?! not to mention dating...
ReplyDeleteMaster,
ReplyDeleteIs this a critique forum? I have an observation (gleaned from your inspiring lectures over the years); a minor thing that would be offered in humility and with a certain amount of reticence.
This piece is from...what novel-in-progress or short?