Drabble Tree, 4-6
Original:
She looked around. It was dark everywhere. From the pavement under her feet to the end of the horizon hidden behind the shadowed trees. She didn't know why he wanted to meet her here. She wasn't sure what kind of guy thought it would be okay to ask a girl to come to a park at nine at night. But here she was, alone, in the dark, and vulnerable.
"You made it."
She turned on her heels toward the voice and could only see a figure beside the bushes.
"Who is it?" she asked.
There was a pause. "It's me."
Original:
"We're out of pumpkin pie. Please come back tomorrow."
Annie stared at the baker behind the counter for a moment. "But it's Thanksgiving," she said. "What will I do with a pumpkin pie tomorrow when all my company is gone? Eat it myself?"
The baker shrugged. "We're out. We'll have more tomorrow."
She resisted a groan and then bent down to look in the glass case. "Fine then. Give me a pecan. I'll take an apple, too."
"Coming right up." He boxed up both pies. "That'll be fourteen-fifty."
She slapped down a twenty, grabbed her change and the pies, and stormed out.
Original:
The road was long. It was straight, and I couldn't see the end. It was raining. No, pouring. Hard rain on my neck and running down the back of my legs.
"I'll never make it," Derick said from behind me.
I didn't turn around. "Keep walking."
Just then a car drove by and splashed us with a coat of mud. We both stopped walking and stood still. He was right. We weren't going to make it. I was just about to suggest we keep going when a taxi pulled up and waved.
Derick smiled through the mud. "We made it!"
She looked around. It was dark everywhere. From the pavement under her feet to the end of the horizon hidden behind the shadowed trees. She didn't know why he wanted to meet her here. She wasn't sure what kind of guy thought it would be okay to ask a girl to come to a park at nine at night. But here she was, alone, in the dark, and vulnerable.
"You made it."
She turned on her heels toward the voice and could only see a figure beside the bushes.
"Who is it?" she asked.
There was a pause. "It's me."
Original:
"We're out of pumpkin pie. Please come back tomorrow."
Annie stared at the baker behind the counter for a moment. "But it's Thanksgiving," she said. "What will I do with a pumpkin pie tomorrow when all my company is gone? Eat it myself?"
The baker shrugged. "We're out. We'll have more tomorrow."
She resisted a groan and then bent down to look in the glass case. "Fine then. Give me a pecan. I'll take an apple, too."
"Coming right up." He boxed up both pies. "That'll be fourteen-fifty."
She slapped down a twenty, grabbed her change and the pies, and stormed out.
Original:
The road was long. It was straight, and I couldn't see the end. It was raining. No, pouring. Hard rain on my neck and running down the back of my legs.
"I'll never make it," Derick said from behind me.
I didn't turn around. "Keep walking."
Just then a car drove by and splashed us with a coat of mud. We both stopped walking and stood still. He was right. We weren't going to make it. I was just about to suggest we keep going when a taxi pulled up and waved.
Derick smiled through the mud. "We made it!"