“Do you see that tree over there?” Brian asked. “The one with the icicles hanging off the bare branches?”
Chris nodded and then took a deep drag on the joint that he and Brian were sharing in the lot behind the school. “Yeah, what about it?”
“It’s a perfect metaphor for Carolyn,” Brian said. “She’s frigid. Those icicles on that tree’s branches are like the icicles in her veins. She’s an ice queen.” Brian took a hit on the joint that Chris handed him.
“So what you’re saying is that Carolyn’s not putting out.”
“Not even a little,” Brian said.
Written for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt from Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. Photo credit: Dale Rogerson.