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.

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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?”