Flash Fiction: Perfect Shot

The bus stop, for her, was an uncomfortable spot to wait. She hugged a stack of books to her chest, for a hand, often slithered up her waist. She had worn earphones to avoid the cheap whispers from the background. The jacket tied to her waist, tried to ascertain that no one banged her backside. Yet, He found another spot to touch disgustingly. Chills went down her back; the feeling helplessness awakened the courage within her. A powerful reflex sprang through her hand. In its clenched fist, there was a pen. Swiftly she poked it into his eye.

The next evening, she listened to the chirping birdies, the jacket was worn in its place of belonging and her face beamed with a smile of self assurance.

P.S: 100 word story


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