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About This Author
My name is Joy, and I love to write. Why poetry, here? Because poetry uplifts its writer, and if she is lucky enough, her readers, too. Around us, so many objects abound to write about. Once a poet starts with a smallest, most trivial object, he shall discover that his pen will spill out what is most delicate or most majestic hidden inside him. Since the classics sometimes dealt with lofty subjects with a lofty language, a person with poetry in his soul may incline to emulate that. That is understandable. Poetry does that to a person: it enlarges the soul and gives it wings. Yet, to really soar, a poet needs to take off from the ground. Kiya's gift. I love it!
Everyday Canvas
#936490 added June 17, 2018 at 6:55pm
Restrictions: None
One-Upmanship
Prompt: "I think we are already in a lot of trouble, actually!"

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"I think we are already in a lot of trouble, actually!" she said, looking over her shoulder at him fixedly.

“Perfectly ridiculous!” he said putting emphasis on the last syllable. “I don’t understand any of it. All this mixup.”

“Of course not,” she said, “I don’t understand it either, but I thought you did.”

How could she! He took a long breath, realizing he was more irked than she thought him to be, but if she were on to him, she’d try to calm him down with her attentions, fussing over him, smoothing his hair, or loosening his tie…exactly what he didn’t want her to do.

“Is there something wrong?” she asked anxiously, watching his face.

“No, dear,” he said forcing himself. “Just tired, that’s all!”

“Wait! I’ll get you a cup of chamomile tea.”

He rested his head against the back of the La-Z-Boy as she left the room. As soon as she was out, he sprung to his feet and put his head against the door to be able to hear her talking on the phone.

“He’s here,” she was saying. “I have him.”

What a wild trip! he thought as she continued. “I’ll put it in his tea. We'll be rid of him. No, no one would know. It’ll be all right. ”

He reached inside his jacket, to the back of it where his belt held the Glock, and stepped behind the door, cocking it.





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