Friday, July 14, 2006

55 Fiction Friday

Iris clutched the railing, trying to settle both her gait and her stomach. As she attempted to mop her clammy forhead with a handkerchief, the wind tore it from her fingers. She nearly sobbed in desperation. It was all too much!

"Is this yours, miss?" The dark haired man stood before her, handkerchief in hand.


[FIRST] [PREVIOUS] (to be continued...)

2 comments:

Sam Spade said...

Exciting..even better when you read the whole thing first...

Paperback Writer said...

Ooo!!! A stranger! Good job!