It was all because of a broken heel

Writing Club Exercise #1

Dec 3, 2013

Prompt:

Write anything using the following words:

Shoes                                      Blushing

Study                                      Reject

Chubby                                  Piano

Butterfly                                Lure

It was all because of a broken heel.  He could hear the piano playing in a crescendo now breaking into the strings.  The music was always there, but her presence had added that percussive snap to his symphony.  Her shoes had snapped at the perfect moment and of course, gravity took hold, sending her hurtling towards the concrete and her purse in the entirely different direction.  Dennis grabbed hold of curvy brunette’s arm preventing her from certain peril in the street with the oncoming moving van. 

As he helped her up, her face met his blushing.  She was pretty in the way that chubby girls were, doll faced.  She reminded him of the porcelain figurines in his grandmother’s china cabinet with their shiny veneers and carefully painted butterfly smiles.  Too look at and not touch lest they break.  Only this doll wasn’t smiling.

“Thank you, but would you mind letting go of my arm,” her irritation was evident.  Her teeth were grinding weren’t they?  Her breath rising in steaming puffs.

Letting her go, he watched as she brushed her red trench exaggeratedl, her hands trying desperately to wipe off the imaginary dust.  He had touched her and that was profane.  Should he have just allowed this uptowner to fall into traffic?  Perhaps. 

Her nails were a done in a French manicure.  He looked down at his disheveled pants and then momentarily to his filthy hands, grease ground into his callouses and dirt lodged under his nails.  He hadn’t thought about it when he caught her.  Just that he didn’t want to see the pretty bird get crushed. 

For a moment their eyes met once more, her scowl softened for a millisecond as she studied him.  “Thank you” rose once more from her pristine throat wrapped in a bright orange scarf.  The shade complimented her dark coffee hair.  She slipped off her other shoe, and extended it to him.  “Would you?  I don’t want to break a nail.”  Luring him in with a painted smile.  He couldn’t say no, though he knew she would reject him in a breath.  Yes, she was a butterfly, flitting away down the street in her newly made flats to the tune of a sad violin.