“The butterflies are mobbing the cake, Stella. Unless that’s some kind of wild decoration?” Jay sounded skeptical.
She barely glanced at the undulating wings, mounded purple and iridescent over a crisp linen tablecloth. She didn’t look at the larger scene, either, despite it being green and sunny. She certainly didn’t try to find the icing she’d spent so much time on before they’d arrived.
Yes, it had been the perfect spring picnic, until they’d arrived, swarming the cake and completely ignoring the quinoa salad the birthday grandmother insisted was “good for you” that no one wanted to eat.
She liked eating. And maintaining the ability to eat. So much so, she’d eat the whole bowl of quinoa if it meant catering job would still be a paid one.
Stella looked into her assistant’s eyes instead, and saw the reflection of flat desperation in Jay’s pupils. At least it wasn’t mirrored.
Yet.
“I cede the cake,” she said gloomily. “Little sugar fiends. No one ever suspects the butterflies.”
***
A slight modification of nother Mike’s prompt this week, although just a sliver of story: The butterflies were mobbing the cake, like some kind of wild decoration…
My prompt went to Leigh Kimmel: Shining copper pots hung from the ceiling, nestled amongst bunches of dried lavender and thyme.
Check out more, over at MOTE – new prompts coming tomorrow, and there’s still time to send one in to play along! (Missed your moment? Snag a spare!)
