The flowers have come up well this year. White and red, her favourite colours.
She arrives. I hope to impress. She glances at them, nods a little, makes a note on her clipboard.
It’s over in less than ten minutes and she’s gone. All that work.
A week later. The results are emailed to the members of the Horticultural Society. I’m not even in the top three.
Rage subsides to anger, turns to determination. Time to start again.
I invite her round to discuss what more I can do.
Like I did last year, with the previous head judge. Just before they mysteriously disappeared.
Written for Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields (more details HERE). The idea is to write a short story of 100 words based on the photo prompt (above).