She looked a picture: bouncy curls, gauzy pink dress.
The afternoon was a phenomenal success – the garden resounded with children’s laughter and Suzy played the hostess like an expert, welcoming guests, exclaiming at her presents, charming the parents. She excelled in the games, but was gracious to those little ones who lacked her skill.
Then the storm hit. You could feel the air change, hear the hum, but Suzy just stood there, entranced. It took only a moment to short her out, turning her curls to frizzled wisps, her frilly dress to a charred rag.
Back to the drawing board.
Thanks once again to Rochelle for hosting Friday Fictioneers. This is my contribution to this week’s link-up.