Flash Fiction Friday – Perfect

I’ve been browsing a lot of gender feels-themed Pinterest boards lately and this scene popped into my head. I couldn’t pick which pronouns to use for the character, so I just didn’t use any at all. It was interesting exercise, though I feel like it made the prose a bit convoluted in places but hey – it’s just flash fiction, it’s the perfect place to experiment. Hope you like it!

Perfect

Cee grinned like a toddler as the door closed, discarding coat and hat and gloves, sneakers and backpack unceremoniously on the hall floor. Remaining was only the plastic bag, held tightly in the left hand. Proceeding into the bed room, the bag was placed on the bed and Cee reached into it, feeling the cardboard box inside, then backtracking. A flock of butterflies ripping through nerve endings, Cee fled into the kitchen to get away from the incessant tickle of nervousness. The hum and hiss of the electric kettle was like a balm that smoothed over, slicked back into place. Outside it was raining, a light drizzle on a backdrop of golden sunlight. Sunshowers suited this March Tuesday afternoon almost inappropriately well, like it was meant to be like this, like it was fate, or fiction. Cee folded long fingers around the cup and waited for it to cool a little before taking one big gulp, keeping it behind locked lips until every last note of flavor have been felt. Swallowing finally, the heat pooled, it seemed, all the way down to the soles of the feet. 

Calmer now, cup still palmed, Cee returned to the bedroom and stared down the bag, battling the nerves that began twitching again. The cup was set aside, the box freed from the plastic and placed on the bed, all harsh edges and gray on top of the fluffy green comforter. Cee counted down from five, then flipped open the top and almost squee’d upon seeing the contents. It had been love at first sight, a flash of color in the peripheral during a normal walk to the bus which turned into an uncharacteristically spontaneous buy. Cee took them out, throwing the bag aside and stepping back just to look at them. They were perfect. Heavy, clunky, stomp-on-fascists boots, covered all over with tiny lavender flowers and dainty green leaves. Cee grinned, sat down on the bed and begun to lace them up. 

Invisible butterflies roiled once more as Cee stepped in front of the full-length mirror and took in the reflection from top to newly crowned toe. They were perfect.

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