Midnight struck, and Cindy was heartbroken.
She’d done all a girl could do. She’d observed what he googled at work when he thought nobody was watching.
She’d followed him at a strategic distance on weekends.
She’d discovered what he liked, and reinvented herself to become his dream girl. It should all have come together at the office party.
She gazed dejectedly at her reflection in the mirror, from newly blonded hair to fishnet stockinged feet. His words still stung.
“You wear what? Size 10? Freaky!”
Well, he was the freak. Especially now he wore a strappy red stiletto in his neck. Size 10.
There’s been some discussion recently among Friday Fictioneers about the frequency of gruesome endings to stories. Please accept my apology for adding to the murder tally this week. In my defence, I can only say, firstly, that I haven’t really killed off many of my characters so I’m sure I’m still within whatever quota exists. Secondly, I couldn’t think of anything else.
In case you’re wondering about the connection to the prompt, I’ve wanted to write a story to go with the following song for so long that when I saw those feet in the picture I couldn’t resist. The video’s a classic – I hope you’ve got a couple of minutes to have a look.