my king is lost at midnight

[silverskytears]

On the metro to the company holiday party, a lady my mom's age leaned over and with a conspiratory whisper told me I was beautiful. A little girl on the escalator went, "pretty girl, mommy!". On the way home a girl my age leaned over to her friend, "she's pretty".

I broke my shoe leaving the party.

It is easy to be an everyday cindarella.

Comments

[theredphoenix2]

That's a sweet type of story. And from what I have gathered, they are not deceitful. It is nice that the poetic flair does not seem to disappear from your words.