#50wordsaday

-Alice

She sat in bed before getting up. The room was cold; she held her blanket wrapped around herself. Still, cold air seeped in around her legs. Under the blanket, she dressed. Her big hoodie on, she went into the bathroom, got her toothbrush, and pumping hand soap on it absentmindedly.

The catcher approached the pitcher's mound. The rest of the softball players slacked for the timeout. The pitcher leaned forward, smiled. "What's up, babe?" "I just wanted to say I love you," the catcher said, smirking. "You can't keep calling timeouts for that," she laughed, "also, I love you, too.

When she found the textbook, she laughed at its proportions. Its face was that of a normal book that she might read, but the depth of its pages was comical. It seemed like the book should have been wider and taller but instead it was and odd and bulky shape.

The film of cream and soap squished between Haley's rubbing hands. The cold water ran over her knuckles and between her palms and when she went to dry her hands, she still felt the griminess between her fingers. She turned the hot water handle back off. "You'd think a big company like this could replace a broken water heater in less than a month," she said to herself, turning to read the next ticket. Two scoops, Chocolate peanut butter, cone. Trying to scoop chocolate peanut butter ice cream is like trying to scoop concrete. As such, Haley considered chocolate peanut butter to be her nemesis. Usually, she would just let somebody else handle the ticket, but her coworkers were in the back and she didn't want to bother them and admit that she had been avoiding scooping chocolate peanut butter ice cream for a few months. Right from the start, she had trouble making a dent in the untouched gallon of ice cream. She had to resort to shaving little slivers into the cone, using the scoop to sculpt the pile of ice cream into a more visual appealing confection. Once she had about one scoop down on the cone, she tried to push herself to get the next scoop in one go. Positioning herself higher over the big tub of ice cream, she gave all her force and then felt something go wrong in her arm. She let go of the scoop and shook out her bicep. It was fine, but she would have preferred a moment of rest. Unfortunately for her, she had an order to get out. She shoveled slivers onto the cone and took it to the customer. He took the cone without much notice, unaware of the pain that went into it. When she got back to behind the counter, Haley washed her hands again. Still, the cold water just didn't get the job done. Her arm hurt and her hands felt clammy with dairy. That's when Tammy walked out from the back with an empty bus tub, swapping it out for the full tub of dirty dishes out front. Haley wished she'd been put on dishes. She preferred the mechanical nature of it, and the dishwasher had it's own back up of hot water, so she wouldn't be freezing and gross and she wouldn't have to scoop cement. Her shift was three more hours.

I got the opportunity to have a piece of microfiction published last week. I’m proud of it and I hope you like it!

Her fort was tall, solid. Flecks of clay dusted her hair and jacket. She grabbed soft greyness off the ground and packed it into a little ball. She added to her pile. Across the field, her brother piled his own clay balls for the fight. She trusted her softball arm.

The officer knelt beside the daisy, rolling his eyes at the swaying bee. "Ma'am, have you been drinking tonight?" The bee buzzed quietly. "Ma'am, you've got to speak up," he stiffened authoritatively. "Buzz." The bee continued floating around the flower. "Ma'am, buzzed driving is drunk driving," he said as he handcuffed her.