Prompt for August 18, 2016

Complete the short story/flash fiction, that has the following opening:

Debra looked at me, her eyes shiny in the dim light as she held on to Timothy’s (Thomas?) back as he leaned into her. “The way to a man’s heart is through is stomach,” she said, her voice light and airy.

“That may be true, bitch,” I responded, “but you’re not supposed to put a knife in his stomach to see if you can hit his heart.” I gave a light push and Thomas (?) slipped off of Debra and fell to the ground, a growing pool of crimson blossoming where the dagger stuck out of his belly. I looked at the mess on the floor and then the mess that was on her shirt. No, my shirt, I had loaned it to her this morning. “Shit, girl, not every man is infected. At least a third of men are still functioning adults. The other two thirds can barely walk, talk or breathe on their own so they’re not going to walk up to you and smile, they’re going to crawl up to you and drool on your feet.”

I glanced down at her shoes. “Damn it, those are my shoes.”

“I’m sorry Brenda, really, it’s just,” she looked down at Terry’s (?) still form on the ground, “I didn’t like the way he looked at me.”

“Looked at you? Seriously? You walk around with denim shorts that have no crotch, you wear my shirts and yet you’re at least 2 cup sizes larger and you’re wearing my Louboutin Victoria shoes that I had to shoot someone for. You dress like you’re looking for sex and then get upset when someone propositions you. Do you see where that makes no sense?”

She looked at me, her eyes holding mine steady. “Perhaps,” she said, walking slowly towards me like a runway model showing off the latest fashion, “perhaps the right person hasn’t asked.”

As she came closer I swear the temperature of the room climbed quickly. Five, ten degrees, more. My skin developed a rosy hue as blood rushed to my face faster than men to Debra’s door. This was a bad idea. We were two women, trying to survive in a world where a third of the population became incapable of feeding themselves while another third acted like it was ‘that time of the month’ every freaking day. We needed to stay strong. We needed to bond as companions in these dark times. We needed to establish a relationship that would survive the trials and tribulations that we had gone through and those that were coming.

We needed to have sex.

Post a link to the story in the comments.

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