Tuesday, November 27, 2007

Best Enemies

by Sarah Sharwood

The slap echoed faintly; no one moved, no one breathed. There was silence as she slowly righted her head. She was breathing hard, and my handprint was branded red-hot across her cheek. I was breathing hard, and her words were branded red-hot in my mind.

“Bitch,” she said slowly, thoughtfully.

She had very long nails.

No comments: