The Stranger at the Café

 

My eyes trailed up her legs at the cafe. She wore see-through tights. As my gaze travelled  upwards I saw she was watching me watch her. She smirked. I bet she thought I thought her pretty.

 I bet she'd never have guessed I'd been imagining strangling her with her hosiery.
 

50-word story by Lisa Falzon

Parlour Talk

 

 No - wait! Don't spray me.. hang on! Don't tear at my home! Didn't I see you only yesterday, with all eight of my eyes, stalk a mosquito in the bedroom, feebly armed with a slipper? My dear I have pincers, I have stickiness. Let's be allies, you and I.