“You have an admirer, Miss Mildred!” Auntie Dot produces a letter. It’s sunshine yellow parchment sealed with green wax.
“Auntie, it’s just Charles. He writes me these once a week. Tells me of great adventure. My hand will be his and when it happens. .. All the dreadful things we will embark on. And children. Seven… with four boys and three girls.” Mildred looks hopelessly bored of it all.
Auntie looks her over. “You could do much worse. The young man has the wherewithal to travel by good means too!”
Auntie’s shadow barely clears the door before it’s snapped open.
I have come to the conclusion you are a wax figure. I thought your long pause and quiet nature was odd. But a lady has that privilege. It’s the rather touch of your skin isn’t like other people. I have had second thoughts since I have never seen you physically move. I shall be by in a few days. If you don’t have a pulse, I’m not sure on how this whole thing can work out.
“He thinks I’m a wax figure! This is a joke! He’s toying with me. Oooohhh, you had me Mr Charles! Ha ha ha. Yes, I didn’t see that coming.” Mildred realizes the joke.
Auntie pops her head around the corner.”Everything ok?”
” He asked if I was a wax figure!” Mildred laughs through the line.
“Well, you are. Ain’t never left that chair in twenty years. You never ate. I don’t understand how you talk.” Auntie Dot brings the feather duster to clean her up.
Written as part of a challenge called Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers , details are available at https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/11/28/fffaw-challenge-week-of-november-29-2016/