He’s late. Five more minutes. I’m wearing lavender; he’ll be in black. The whole town is here at the fair, watching me get stood up.
One more minute. I don’t know why my heart is racing. It’s not like this is my first date.
This is it. Turning around. Oh my…
“Isn’t your name Kelley?”
“Do you want to maybe…take a walk, get some food?”
“I’d love it.”
Oh, there’s my date. Black polo. Please don’t see me. Please don’t…
“Was there another girl standing here wearing purple?”
“I think she left.”
For Friday Fictioneers – Addicted to Purple