All over Halsted
Real estate agents always wear too much make-up. As if trying too hard wasn’t already plastered all over their faces.
“This prahpety will literally be the most important relationship of your life.”
“Oh,” I laughed. “Not marriage, huh?”
“Sweetie, you’re in Chicahga now.”
She emptied her pop into the display flowers, the same lilies Tony always brought me. I could have hurled them out, right there all over Halsted. But I wasn’t that kind of person. I was the sappy type who cried. Who still had the decency to mourn.
“They’re Easter lilies, you know. And you’re killing them.”
* Author’s note: This is part of the Friday Fictioneers 100-word writing challenge. Photo courtesy of Lora Mitchell.