She is fourteen years old.  You know, the year when everything becomes fake real.  And the crisis of today is who will ask her to the Homecoming Dance.  It’s her first major high school event.   She has anticipated this every since she helped her older sister get ready for prom three years earlier.  She can’t wait to coordinate colors and take the mall by storm.  But as last period ends and the masses fill the halls, he is nowhere in sight.

Defeated, she gathers her bookbag, pops in some earbuds, and scurries out the building.  Walking the familiar trail home, she takes in the fragrances of fall and is reminded that there is always Monday.

LaRonda Gray Moore


He approaches the house with the same temperament in which he left.  With a calm breeze at his back and vindication in his heart, he holds his breath and knocks.  It’s been seven years since he last darken that door; seven years since he’s gazed dreamingly into her unassuming eyes.

LaRonda Gray Moore

Submitted to the 50-Word Fiction Competition.

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