A Proposition

Day #15: Look up the lyrics of your least favorite song. Find the absolute WORST line, and have someone in your story say that line out loud.

Greg sat quietly on the love seat. He used his fingers to pluck at the off- white material, letting his finger tips run against it on occasion. The clanking in the kitchen was a stark contrast to the suffocating silence of the room. It wasn’t just the room, however. Even from coming outside, everything felt  silent. He breathed out through his nose to steady his nerves, tilting his head back slightly. Thirty minutes had passed since Emilia had dragged him into her house. It was a quaint little abode with just enough room for a small family to live comfortable. The predominantly wood furnishing left him feeling at home, even though the city home he had gotten used to had been more of a modern suave style. He tilted his head up again when he realized that the noises from the kitchen had subsided. He tried to smile when he saw Emilia standing in front of him with two mugs. He leaned forward.

“I hope you like homemade tea,” she said, handing him one of the mugs. He reached out to take it and cupped it carefully in his palms. The warmth that radiated from it felt good on his hands. Emilia walked over to the couch in front of the coffee table and sat down. They took sips of the drink for a few moments before Emilia looked over at him.

“So, how did my proposition sound to you?” she asked. Her wide smile slipped back onto her face. Greg pursed his lips together before looking at her.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he muttered quietly.

“Ah, why not? It’s a win- win for the both of us,” she said. Greg shook his head. He slipped two of his fingers through the handle of the mug and used his other hand to let it rest in his palm.

“You’re subjecting yourself to a serious offense,” he said. He looked at her, keeping his gaze directly on her eyes. “You could go to jail.” She quirked her eyebrow, her wide smile replaced with a sly grin.

“Not that I could be killed?” she asked. Greg faltered but tried to keep eye contact. She lifted her head up and pointed at her neck.

Look at it,” she started. She used her finger to tap at the skin by her throat. “Bet you wishing you could clutch that.” Greg grimaced and looked away, his grip tightening on his mug.

“That’s not funny,” he murmured out.

“And not true, right?” she asked. Greg hesitated before looking at her again. “That man and woman, they’re not gone because of you, right?” Greg looked down. His words caught in his throat.

“Look, no one is ever out here. I can keep you hidden and you can help me tend to my garden,” she said. “A win- win.” Greg let out a sigh and rubbed at his temples.

“You’re not leaving me much room to say no, are you?” he asked. Emilia let out a little giggle as she set down he empty mug.

“You don’t have to start on the garden now, with how hard the snow is coming down,” she said. Greg nodded.

“What’s in your garden, anyway?” he asked. She smiled.

“My favorite flowers; hydrangeas, roses, lilies”

“Some of those don’t typically grow together,” Greg muttered.

“That’s what makes them so pretty together,” she exclaimed. Greg let out a sigh. He had never tended to a garden before, much less a garden of plants that didn’t belong together in the dead of winter.

“I’ll start tomorrow.”

I hope you guys liked this short story! The song I chose was Fancy by Iggy Azalea. I italicized the lyrics.

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