Originally written for the National Association of Writers’ Groups, 100-word flash fiction competition. The story below was the winner.
“Tell us how you lost yours,” says Janet.
“I bet you lost it really young,” says Alexa, she stops herself “I didn’t mean to say you’re a slut.”
“You’re such a spastic, Alexa,” says Janet. Everyone is laughing generously.
But I know I am a slut. I’m drunk. I’m angry at the bride-to-be sash around Janet’s torso. So I tell them.
“I’d known the guy for years. I was 16. It hurt. I was bleeding. The usual stuff. Afterwards, he said to me, ‘Clean yourself up quickly. I don’t know when your mum is coming home.’
I said, ‘Thanks, Dad.'”