Wednesday, 22 August 2012

Chewing the Cud



(Picture courtesy of Hippy Motors  - do check out their brilliant website!)


Hands on hips, he arched one eyebrow.

“What’s your car called? Does it have a name?"

“Maisy,” she giggled, but bit her lip, a painful blush creeping cell by cell across her face. “Why?”

He shrugged.

“You just strike me as the sort of person who’d give their car a name.”

What the hell was that supposed to mean? But she didn’t ask; civility stayed her tongue just as surely as it hadn’t restrained his. He turned away to talk to someone else as she went sprawling, floundering into a quagmire of self-doubt, her foolishness stripped bare by his cynicism. What did he mean? She tried to laugh it off, but she knew she’d be chewing over his words for weeks.

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