[Scourge of God]

“Ah,” he said, reading the title of the thread. “A ping list for fiction writers.”

Victoria, the dark haired beauty serving his drink, glanced at the screen. “These things always end badly.”

“Yes they do darling, but we do them anyway.”

Her smoky eyes boldly met his. “Hmm, another arrogant male, who thinks he can call me darling. Here’s my number. I’m off at 6.”

---

Put me on the ping list, please. This could be fun.

[squarebarb]

"Off at six," she had said. He walked for hours in the rain, searching for her address. It was written on the cinders of his alleged heart. He had lost everything.

He had lost his kitten, his lunch, his marbles, and now he was about to lose her. Her wet lips, her drabjous eyes.