Sweet Tooth

This short was created from a prompt at the Gotham Writers Write-In workshop on Feb. 17th.

We were given a prompt and 15 minutes to write something inspired by that prompt--so it is as much story as I could fit into that time.

Prompt: Sweet Tooth.

From the window of my office I can see a few things very clearly, despite the throb in my head from the night before. The sunset painted sky--pink and cloudless, shimmering atop the licorice road, wet from this afternoon’s rain, and the subway stop at the corner, with its thick chocolate railing and red lollipop light, squatting at the corner of the block.

I was surprised to see her ascend the subway stairs wearing such a bright yellow, white and orange dress; high style for this neighborhood. The fondant whip of her hair matched the yellow in her dress, and her translucent jawbreaker heels picked up the remaining daylight and threw it back at me. My head pounded with each of her steps.

I watched as she entered my building, but I didn’t move from the window. I stood and listened until I heard the ding of the elevator hitting my floor. I listened to the clicking of her heels across the oreo linoleum of the hall, and turned when they stopped at my door.

A quick rap on the glass, a shout to enter, and she walked into the room. Tangerine skin, yellow hair; all candy. And me with a sweet tooth and no dental insurance.


© Tim Mucci, 2017. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Tim Mucci with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.