Mating Dance


GBFlash


Mating Dance 

Rating potential candidates to woo in ninety second increments is like playing Twister with a blind man. Speed dating, another craze my sister has convinced (coerced) me to attend. Granted, we are allotted a generous three minutes, but none made it beyond the ninety second mark before I lost interest.

I’m a fossil in their killing field.

     Right hand, red.

“You wish your ex dead?” I repeat.

Next.

     Left foot, blue.

“…migratory patterns of birds; how they flew.”

Nope.

     Right foot, yellow.

“…like, shots? Jello ones!”

Nada.

     Left hand, green.

“Quite a cold-front we’ve seen…”

Yawn.

I’ve defective DNA, and love in the Digital Age is a corrupt system.

© Grace Black

110 words
#flashdog

 

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