The hardest thing to do for me is tell a story in 100 words, exactly. Sometimes it's more about the words you do use than the ones you don't.
Prompt provided by Dixie. Thank you, lady love.
She turned away, piling hair high on the top of her head in a messy fashion before setting it with a black elastic. The bareness of her back caught his gaze, the ink he hadn’t noticed there before staring back mockingly…glaring.
Birds in fight, breaking away.
She’d stopped taking his calls so often.
Flying high, chasing freedom.
This is the last time, she whispered.
Because he used her always. Used her every time and never did he really see.
And hadn’t she told him once?
The worst thing is holding onto someone who didn’t want to be held on to.