She was hooked as soon as she had brushed it against her skin. The fabric folded softly against her, outlining the shape of all the muscles below. She must own this dress, perfectly cut as it was, the deep emerald green catching the light, reflecting the colour of her eyes. It would go with her red patent leather stiletto heels perfectly. It was like it had been made for her, and only for her. She examines the man in the booth, sees the lines on his face, the lines of a life lived hard on the edges of society, marginalised and ostracised by his addiction to perfection. She realises he could never catch her, so she turns. And she runs.

Tagged , ,

Comments and criticism always welcome!

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: