A long day of classes followed by a nightly ritual. Three roommates and one rickety table. We talked of lovers and relationships we wished we’d never had. We spoke of our creepy landlord—rumored to be a peeping-tom—the balding carpet he wouldn't replace. Him dropping by at odd hours never quite meeting our eyes, instead, gazing longingly at our nubile bodies. Candice's habit of biting fingernails way past the quick and how her mother promised an heirloom ring, bribing her to stop. She sucked hard—embers glowing—before deformed fingertips passed it on. Sharing that last Virginia Slim before calling it a night.
By Lisa H. Owens
Just 100 Words
100 Word Stories - November 2020 Photo Prompt
Keep it simple, Stupid!
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