Other stories for this prompt

I knew that my outfit was risky, the plunging black bra exposing large breasts and cleavage. White sheer dress with black embroidery. The patterned hat, sharp, long painted fingernails and matching blood red lipstick may have looked good in a lounge bar but my fiance's grandmother was not impressed. Her husband was though. He couldn't keep his eyes off my chest and received a withering glance from his wife and got told to make the drinks in another room.

I never guessed that Bob's family were so rich. The white remote gates gave it away. I imagined they would live...

"You don't like her, do you?"

"I don't have to."

He glanced at her, although kept his eyes on the road. "You have to try."

"Really, my feelings towards her don't matter, what matters is that you like her, and she likes you." Her feathers were ruffled now as she looked out of the window, most decidedly not at him. "Besides. I am trying."

"Then maybe you should try harder."

They didn't speak, the sounds of the engine the only thing keeping them from awkward silence.

"The others all like her."

"I don't have to like everyone - "

"You...

We almost died on the way to Guayaquil. I think we would have been more worried if there hadn't been a near-accident. Back in San Juan, we showed off our dismissive gazes and new fedoras to anyone who condescended to notice. We are the hip. We are the elite. Our Che shirts are the only ironic Che shirts south of Belize. We are sexy Ecuadorean hipsters. Fear us.

It was inexplicable that two latino, hipster twenty-somethings from East Los Angeles would talk like 85-year-old Jewish retirees from Queens, yet that was how it was.

"Pull ovah and ask fuh direck-shuns," shouted Isabel.

"I know where I'm going!" Ricky replied with a Yiddish accent that seemed to come from nowhere. "You always do this! You always want to undermine my AUTHORITY!"

He exclaimed very loudly, mostly because he was hard of hearing and couldn't monitor his own pitch. Isabel was silent for a second, silently mouthing words to herself. Then, as if in an afterthought, she said, "You just...

"Do you think we'll be there in time?" Annette didn't care but she felt as though she should say something to break the awkward silence in the car.
"No." Paolo answered. Annette waited for him to say something else. He didn't so she just continued staring out the window, watching the world pass by outside the car.
They had been traveling for two days, stopping only briefly at a run down motel on the outskirts of some city to catch a night of sleep. Yesterday had been Annette's birthday but the occasion passed by without so much as a balloon....

The drive had been long and hot, and Mac's head barely cleared the top of the steering wheel. Betsy was being an incorrigible fuss, and Mac was silently fantasizing about slamming on the brakes and shoving her out of the passenger side door.

Maybe it was the hat.

He asked her, begged her not to wear the hat, but she knew it would get under his skin like nothing else (except maybe singing show tunes as loudly as possible, so she popped it on her head with a smile and hopped into the truck without saying a word.

That was...

The argument that had started before they left the house – before, even, they had learned that they would have to leave the house at all – continued as they drove. Jacob gripped the steering wheel with white knuckled hands, channelling his anger into the car instead of out at his wife, Barbara.

Barbara sat next to him, seething silently, her own hand wrapped together, her own knuckles just as white as her husband’s. One would soon break the deadlock, but neither wanted to be the first. The air was heavy with upset.

Jacob broke first. “You still not speaking...

The open road was an open mouth. The dust rose in hissing strands. The sun berated us from every angle and the A/C was spewing out its soul. They called this Hell's Highway.

It was barren, filled only with the amber hues of fatigue and discomfort. We drove onward in silence, as if the merest hint of conversation would cause our cargo to spontaneously combust. I didn't have the energy to admire his golden curls, the arch of his nose, the romance of his mouth. His eyes were forward. They were always facing forward.

A carcass in the road caused...

The car idled at the end of the line. Traffic hadn't moved in more than 20 minutes. She was getting more and more nervous. How would she ever make her flight if they didn't get through soon. She got out of the car and walkd a head a little. what was going on that was keeping traffic tied up. she walked a little further. she saw the crowd of people gathered in the street. The worried faces, the mumbling of low voices. In the middle of all this sat a little girl. She couldn't be more than 2 years old,...

I needed to find food, quickly.

The warm summer breeze propelled me forward at a rate that almost made my flight uncontrollable. My wings beat hundreds of times per second, but at my size, it doesn't take much to send me reeling.

My eyes displayed the fractured landscape; grass, trees, houses. I was nearing a long strip of gray ground that was painted yellow and white in some places. Perhaps there would be food nearby? I descended to investigate, buzzing eagerly.

Another breeze sent me tumbling through the air, but I righted myself. The ground was getting nearer.

Suddenly, some...