This is an exert from a short story I have been working on. Let me know what you think!
Fanta
All of the guys are swarming me with the look a predator gives its prey, twenty lions against one gazelle. "I'm here to see Coach Carter for the statistics." They all return to their monstrous game, while a man around 5'7 with short hair and a black Nike collar shirt tells me to hold on. I stand awkwardly in the corner while orange fireballs were being thrown left to right. My only comfort the strawberry Fanta I bought in this foreign location's vending machine. The Coach opens the door, I begin to walk towards him when a ball, with the perfectly geometric angle of doom, bounces from the plastic hardwood to the bottom of my can, drowning me in strawberry goodness. Every "sharp tooth" laughs and suddenly I remember a similar situation the last time I ventured outside the my comfort zone.
No comments:
Post a Comment