Inspector Justin’s eyes automatically go to the gorgeous blond stepping out of the hotel. Tall, slim, with legs that seemed to go on for ever under that little black dress. Suddenly she trips, dropping her clutch. In a flash two young men rush to assist. Tossing her hair, she pats down her dress, giggling at the men admiring her perfect derrière.
O to be young and single again.

Something catches his eye. “Lady. Stop.” he shouts out.

She looks back at him. Takes in his uniform. Hazel eyes dilate. Before he can say anything, she turns and bolts across the road into the darkness, oblivious of the traffic screeching, swerving and honking around her. Amidst that melee he hears the distinct sound of impact, of a body flying through air and landing with a thud, of bones being crunched. Everything freezes except for the piercing wail of a jammed horn.

Justin breaks out of his shock, radioing in for an ambulance.

Her lipstick, still in his hand, is long forgotten.


In response to 133rd Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writer’s challenge based on a photo by Pamela S Canepa.

13 thoughts on “Dropped

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