Out of nowhere, the snow-blizzard hit. It whipped my wrap-around skirt into a frenzy, then whisked it away. Up, up it billowed skywards, baring my fishnet-clad legs to the raging elements... I screamed curses towards the leaden clouds...
But the winds retaliated, blinded me with my own hair, which snaked across my face, stinging, like the locks of Medusa.
Why did I storm out of that party just because I saw them kissing?
Unusual, for me, to have a flight of fancy that doesn't land on the page as a poem. But thanks to the Sunday Muse for galvanising me into action!
