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A little short story I did for Bix707 of her picture "Little Black Dress" http://www.furaffinity.net/view/3052868/
Roux and art © Bix707
story © Me
Enjoy
She hated this dress, well, not hate. Hate was too strong a word for a humble piece of cloth. What she hated was the idea of the dress, what it stood for. It was the dress she would wear on all those terrible blind dates her friends were always sending her on. They were so desperate to set her up with someone, anyone, that they rarely even knew the person themselves. She appreciated their efforts; they were just trying to help.
Life had never been quite the same for her ever since He died. He had been her whole world, for her, the sun and moon revolved around Him and the life they had together. But now that sun had set, and the world seemed grey and lifeless.
She knew her friends were worried about her and just wanted her to be happy again, but she seriously questioned the effectiveness of them setting her up with every horny, greasy, loser they came across. It most likely wasn’t on purpose, at least she hoped. Otherwise her friends were far more vindictive than she thought.
She just wished they would give up already.
But then, she didn’t want to hurt their feelings. So every Friday night she donned that same little black dress and headed to that same quiet little restaurant around the corner and listened to that same little speech about how much money he had in the bank, and about that little island in the Bahamas he visited every year. All she could do was hope that maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time she could find some that would make the sun rise again. When she did she could finally burn that little black dress to little black ashes.
At the very least, the bread sticks were good.
Roux and art © Bix707
story © Me
Enjoy
She hated this dress, well, not hate. Hate was too strong a word for a humble piece of cloth. What she hated was the idea of the dress, what it stood for. It was the dress she would wear on all those terrible blind dates her friends were always sending her on. They were so desperate to set her up with someone, anyone, that they rarely even knew the person themselves. She appreciated their efforts; they were just trying to help.
Life had never been quite the same for her ever since He died. He had been her whole world, for her, the sun and moon revolved around Him and the life they had together. But now that sun had set, and the world seemed grey and lifeless.
She knew her friends were worried about her and just wanted her to be happy again, but she seriously questioned the effectiveness of them setting her up with every horny, greasy, loser they came across. It most likely wasn’t on purpose, at least she hoped. Otherwise her friends were far more vindictive than she thought.
She just wished they would give up already.
But then, she didn’t want to hurt their feelings. So every Friday night she donned that same little black dress and headed to that same quiet little restaurant around the corner and listened to that same little speech about how much money he had in the bank, and about that little island in the Bahamas he visited every year. All she could do was hope that maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time she could find some that would make the sun rise again. When she did she could finally burn that little black dress to little black ashes.
At the very least, the bread sticks were good.
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 25 kB
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