So we started flash fiction this semester, so I got like the same story written three times somewhat differently because our professor kept giving us ‘complications’ for our stories.

He really didn’t understand why he had to be there.

So it was his sister’s birthday party. So what? That just meant he had to ‘supervise’ a bunch of ten year olds as they ran around like tiny morons with cupcakes in one hand and candy in the other.

And as if that wasn’t bad enough, there was a clown.

A clown.

One Diego was sure he had permanently traumatized when said clown had offered him a balloon animal and Diego had kindly murdered it with his pocket knife.

And as the clown was packing up, he could feel the heated glare coming from the hazel eyed kid with a scar on his knee, and was surprised he didn’t keel over on the spot.


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