Flash Fiction: Outsider
Mar. 13th, 2019 11:01 amAbigail is out of her depth at a party for the rich and famous until she meets someone else who seems to be an outsider.
For the
allbingo "meet-ugly" prompt "accidental insult"
Posted for #writingwednesday: wordpress ; fic blog ; AO3
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"Enjoying the party?"
Abigail shrugged. She'd come out onto the balcony for some air. Even in her short red dress she was hot, the atmosphere inside stifling both from the heat and the company. She was an outsider here, and while Claire could find a way feel at home amongst these people, Abigail could not.
"It's not really my thing," she said, lifting one tan hand to sip from the glass of wine.
"Parties?" he asked, before taking a sip from his whisky glass.
She turned her to the speaker. He was tall, broad shouldered, with blonde hair a little longer than was fashionable with this crowd. His suit looked the part but the inexpensive watch didn't. Abigail had worked in a jewellery store for six months and had learnt more than she'd ever wanted to about watch brands and necklace clasps. He was probably as much out of his league here as she was.
"Not this kind of party. A few people I actually know, some snacks that I like, some music from this century. That's a party."
He laughed, came to lean on the railing alongside her. "You don't appreciate classical music?"
"Sometimes. But it just makes this whole thing seem more formal. I don't really do formal."
He glanced around, leaned a little closer. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Abigail frowned, unnerved. "I guess."
"I don't really do formal either. You know what?" He tugged off his tie and tossed it over the balcony.
( Read more... )
For the
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Posted for #writingwednesday: wordpress ; fic blog ; AO3
tumblr;twitter;pinterest;facebook

"Enjoying the party?"
Abigail shrugged. She'd come out onto the balcony for some air. Even in her short red dress she was hot, the atmosphere inside stifling both from the heat and the company. She was an outsider here, and while Claire could find a way feel at home amongst these people, Abigail could not.
"It's not really my thing," she said, lifting one tan hand to sip from the glass of wine.
"Parties?" he asked, before taking a sip from his whisky glass.
She turned her to the speaker. He was tall, broad shouldered, with blonde hair a little longer than was fashionable with this crowd. His suit looked the part but the inexpensive watch didn't. Abigail had worked in a jewellery store for six months and had learnt more than she'd ever wanted to about watch brands and necklace clasps. He was probably as much out of his league here as she was.
"Not this kind of party. A few people I actually know, some snacks that I like, some music from this century. That's a party."
He laughed, came to lean on the railing alongside her. "You don't appreciate classical music?"
"Sometimes. But it just makes this whole thing seem more formal. I don't really do formal."
He glanced around, leaned a little closer. "Can I tell you a secret?"
Abigail frowned, unnerved. "I guess."
"I don't really do formal either. You know what?" He tugged off his tie and tossed it over the balcony.
( Read more... )