By Susan Gale Wickes
I paused at the doorway, one hand on the knob, the other fidgeting needlessly with my hair. Did it really matter if one tendril was out of place? Once I stepped inside, I would blend in as nonchalantly as the curtains that hung at every window, the tablecloth that caught the spill of the overly-filled punch bowl, and the ecru carpet that had seen better days.
I opened the door and caught a vision. Sweet Magnolia… head tilted back, yellow curls cascading like a waterfall, her laughter a melody that played on and on. I had grown tired of that song.
Not sure about the title, and I think the tablecloth and the ecru catpet could have been left out BUT the redeeming point is the ending! That part is lovely 🙂
Claire,
The title sets the theme.
The M.C. plays second fiddle to the diva Magnolia she of the melodious laughter and golden curls. Our M.C., on the other hand, blends into the pale fabrics in the room.
In other words, she’s a wallflower – and we all know that’s no fun.
Good story, Gale…….
Beautiful imagery. I loved the story, Susan!