Looking For Love in All the Wrong Places

One of my dear bloggy friends, the fantastic noir writer Cormac Brown, made me aware of a fun little exercise he and his fellow writers engage in called "Friday Flash Fiction". The rules, such as they are, are quite simple - take the given starter sentence and cobble some sort of prose out of it. The opening phrase for this week was 'inspired' by my Wednesday post, and was cleverly altered to 'Stop Me Before I Date Again".

Friday Flash Fiction linky is here.

Enjoy.

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She once again sat, alone, slump-shouldered, on the edge of the table; with shame thick in her throat, she heaved out a garbled sigh to no one, "Stop me before I date again".

Mama always said, "The more things change, the more they stay the same". Hmph.

Truer words, Mama. Truer words.

For here she was, back in the same room.

Wearing the same crinkly blue gown.

Waiting, impatiently, like she had the last four times.

In a few moments, his hand would urgently be on the door knob, and her heart would start its usual silly girlish flutter.

In he would strut, all official-like in his white jacket and so full of himself - the fetus with a medical degree.

The same manchild, who would once again look at that same, decrepit hoo-hoo of hers and sniff a dismissive, "It's the same as last time, Mrs. Fotty, you naughty young lady. I'll call in another prescription."

Another day, another STD.

Another botched attempt at finding love in Ottewell Retirement Villa.

Dear Lord, stop me from dating again.