Sophie Split Tongue
Although she is shrinking; she still has a mighty tongue. Outsiders think she is the sweetest thing. With no knowledge of how she spits her venom.
Francesca had cancelled things, gotten up at all hours of the night and had saved Sophie’s life. Taken care of emergencies, driven her to doctors and the hospital, or made sure she got out of the house on a warm day.
Sophie sits in wait so when Francesca comes to check on her she can verbally attack, with great pride. “Your hair looks like you’re scared to death,” she holds her hands out beside her sour face, laughs loudly. “Fire your hairdresser; you should be embarrassed to look like you do.”
“Do this–do that–you idiot. When will you learn?”
Francesca slumps, emotions run deep, and yet she holds in the torment. How much more can she take? Thirty two years is a long time to put up with such a vial person.
“No more,” she says in a whisper and walks away. Closing the door softly like Sophie insists.
Jeanette Cheezum 2010