March 19th, 2005

tank girl


StilettoSpike walked across the yard to where Dawn sat on the back steps, a pair of insubstantial, strappy heels hung between delicately pinched fingers at a careful arm's length. At twenty paces he could smell the viscous substance that dripped off a needle sharp heel and left a sizzling divot in the concrete below.

As he sat beside her, Dawn finally looked up. Her face was streaked with tears. Spike put an arm around her shoulders and pulled her close, letting Dawn snuffle into his coat. He noticed that her grip on the shoes hadn't wavered.

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spikedawnchallenge #5: choices