It’s me again. Double dipping. When you read you might understand why. Nothing fictitious about this story…sigh.

Genre: Hysterical Faction
Word Count: 100

ONE SWELL FOOP

My husband and I raised our purple canopy for the weekly farmer’s market. A breeze cooled my back. “At least it’s not as hot as last Tuesday.

            Jan mopped sweat from his eyes. “Still warm and windy, though. Wish we’d brought weights to hold this thing down.”

            Then, he stood back and admired our handiwork—gridwalls loaded with framed works, tables full of books, notecards, and prints. “Nicest setup here.”  

Perching on my purple chair, I posted pictures and greetings to Facebook and awaited prospective customers. Suddenly a strong gust upended my tent. How quickly triumph can turn to tragedy.

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