“Why this thing?”
“They don’t like pancakes.”
Stephan chuckled. Too serious for her own good.
Her stare continued. He wanted dessert. He demurred.
“Bad accident last year. Someone got run over.” He slapped his palms for emphasis. “Totally.”
She kicked his shin.
“Not the Stop sign, the lamppost! Too tall.”
Stephan’s eyes traced up to her manicured nail.
“Ah, they had to.”
Stella lowered her glasses. Warning or curious? He couldn’t tell.
“That family of giants down the street? Any shorter and the lamp ignites their hair.”
Her glare incinerated what chance he had left.
For Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers
Photo by: © Dale Rogerson
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