This was us.

I see colored jeans, hugging their ankles. One bare shoulder, claiming the top of the fashion food chain. Neon has taken a generational curve, back around. The boys on one wall, girls on the other. It’s familiar, only now, I’m the chaperone.


Click the badge to learn about the flash fiction challenge that is the Gargleblaster. This week the sentence prompt was: “Have all your clocks stopped?”