Up, high

“So, now what?”

What do you mean, “now what?”

“I mean, how the hell am I going to get down?”

oooh. Yeah. Gotchya. Hmm. We could jump I suppose.

“Jump? Are you serious? It’s at least 50 feet high!”

It’s more like 8, really.

“Shut up. This is your fault. I never wanted to climb up here in the first place.”

Yes you did. That’s why you did.

“Shut up. Why do I ever listen to you?”

Because nobody else talks to you?

“Shut. Up!”

“Right. How are we going to get down?”

This piece was submitted as part of Friday Fictioneers, hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. 1 photograph. 100 words. Over 120 people taking part. And hey, if you still can’t get enough – why not check out my almost-FREE eBook, People WatchingUS link hereUK link there.



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