I am a Woman, what does that mean? flash fiction

(Damn those misplaced modifiers – corrections made)

I am a Woman, what does that mean?
[flash fiction from ~burning woman~  by Sha’Tara]

A shrivelled maple leaf and squashed Tim Horton’s coffee cup blew simultaneously across the sidewalk as a gust of wind presaged another downpour from driven black clouds pressing down on the city’s highrises.

 The bus stop was crowded; the 8:15 Downtown unusually late.

 She waited until they were all staring and said to no one in particular, “Oh, darn, I’ve got a run in my pantyhose!”

 She stood up, turned slowly to face the spot on the plastic bench she’d just vacated and lifted her leg to put her black knee-high boot on the bench. She looked down at her leg, running her hand under her thigh. Her skirt, which couldn’t afford any more hemming rose a few more tantalizing inches.  Looks intensified; you could have cut the anticipation with a butter knife.

 “Oh, I forgot, I’m not wearing any!” Deliberately, slowly, she lifted her leg a bit higher to slide her boot off the bench and pulling down desultorily on the black mini skirt, resumed waiting, standing, smiling at the street. 

 An older woman in a heavy grey coat and holding a folded umbrella scowled at the girl and said in a low voice, “That was uncalled for.”

 The girl looked at the woman, smiled openly, sweetly and replied so all could hear, “Actually it was begged for.”

8 thoughts on “I am a Woman, what does that mean? flash fiction

  1. Regis Auffray


    That makes sense actually.

    She’s a woman… …my kind.

    Thanks for sharing.

    It seems to me that the older woman is the one that “missed the bus.”



    1. Sha'Tara Post author

      Thanks for your comment, Regis. You like pretty girls in short skirts, then? As far as I am concerned, that’s a man’s prerogative. Why wear ’em if nobody notices? It’s not because they’re particularly comfortable…


  2. Sha'Tara Post author

    Thank you… Lisa…. (drum roll!… and bow!) Just kidding. I meant to say thank you but I’ve never learned to go through life without a permanent sensa uma.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.