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Jan. 1st, 2024 11:13 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
freevistasStory: Without Homeland
Colors: Teary-eyed #1: Misheard
Word Count: 200
“You probably just misheard him,” Mairead said, holding the Fairchilds’ bedroom rug aloft. “Besides, what’s a…reactionary anyway?”
“A counterrevolutionary,” Alba said, giving the rug a firm whack with the rattan carpet-beater. She winced remembering the fragments of conversation she’d caught at the Dramatic Club the night before. She’d been sitting alone, as usual, trying to concentrate on the lecturer on stage–some Galleanist from Chicago–when Angelo and a few of his friends stopped to chat right next to her table on their way to the bar. It had to have been deliberate.
Mairead coughed as the cloud of dust began to settle into the grass at their feet. “And that’s…an insult?”
“Yes!” Alba gave the rug another whack. “Ever since we broke up, Angelo has done everything in his power to drive me out of Fort Trumbull.”
Whack.
“But the thing is, he’s the reactionary. All he’s ever wanted is to become one of those prominenti jerks.”
Whack!
Mairead gripped the rug a little more tightly; Alba’s pummeling was causing her to lose her grip. “What’s that?”
“You know–a big-shot. Businessman. Tycoon.”
“And that’s an insult?”
Alba gave the rug one last whack before turning on her heel and marching inside.
