• Laura Holian

Writing Prompt Day 04/09/20

Writing Prompt Day: Can you find the ten wacky and unrelated words I was supposed to use in this story?

Belinda was a perfect match for Hank. The kind that was easily ignitable by both anger and passion. He wanted nothing more than to smooth her wrinkled brow.

“He was an ex-prisoner.” She argued.

“Ex.” He wagged a finger at her. “You know perfectly well a sprocket is hardly permissible evidence. He’s a bike mechanic.” He countered.

She fastened a ribbon tie around the narrow waist of her black pleated skirt restoring herself back to her ladylike appearance. “Which makes it a viable weapon of choice. You don’t know that he wasn’t used to throwing them like stars.” She launched a bow tie at him aiming it towards his head.

Catching it easily he frowned, “This. Really?”

“You said undercover.”

“I might as well wear a big red nose.” He tossed it onto the crumpled sheets where their frenzied passion had led them moments before.

Belinda scrounged though her dresser drawers. “It’s all I have. You’re supposed to look like an elitist art dealer.” She picked up the bow tie and strung it around his neck tighter than necessary.

“For an apothecary shop?” He croaked.

“No, that’s me. You are going to prove his innocence by digging up dirt at the art gallery across the street.”

He adjusted his bow tie to a comfortable fit. “Professionals collect evidence.”

“Same difference.” She muttered, sauntering out the door.

“Wait a minute.” He snapped reaching for her arm. “You said he had been ousted from those circles years ago.”

“Some people hold a grudge.” She yanked her arm loose.

He caught her once more and pressed her against the wall, giving her a long kiss. “But not you, right?”

She ducked away from him and walked down the hallway, her hips giving an extra sway with each high heeled step. Reaching the stairs, she looked back at him and said, “Get us a lead and I’ll get you a few mushrooms. You know, for inspiration.” She winked.

He leaned over the banister watching her descend the hardwood steps. “You’re not going to poison me, are you?”

Her laugh echoed up the stairwell.


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©2019 by Laura Holian.