Dismal 'n' Distress

“I don’t have anything else to do,” escaped through her clenched teeth.

That wasn’t entirely true, she did have that laundry. Laying out the clothes you were going to wear for the week took some time. Picking off every piece of lint on them with tweezers took a little extra time. And those stains: they were as bad as red wine on white cotton. Focusing on each square inch at a time, Liz found ways of getting them stain free.

She wondered if they were complete opposites. A layout of the maze, along with a method of defeating the Minotaur, always appeared in her mind. Maybe he just chose the closet path, and hoped the Minotaur had joined the Teamsters. The Teamsters might have told it not to look down that path on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.

She should be the damsel in distress awaiting a shining knight to save her from boredom. Instead, here she paced, dismal and distressed.

“Screw him! Who needs men anyway? They’re messy, rude, arrogant, insensitive, and just so detached! Why doesn’t he call me?” Her fists shook at the tiny room.

The phone rang.





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This is me: home-writer, book-reader, dog-lover and occasional poet. I make this website to share my and my friends texts with You, dear Reader. Please: read carefully, don't be scary, upgrade your mood and be king and leave your comment. :)