Theme # 78: Author's Choice


There was a half-empty mug of black coffee on the glass table, and unwashed dishes in the sink. Apolline slipped her feet into her fuzzy, silver carpet slippers, and dragged them down the stairs.

"Flower, did you knock over the dustbin, again?" she muttered sleepily, as she dropped the day's newspaper on to a table, and unsuccessfully attempted to tidy up the house. "What in the name of Merlin is that terrible smell?"

She waited for a response, but none came. Apolline shrugged to herself, and sank into a couch. Fever was, she decided, not nice at all.