WRITING PROMPT NO. 182
Milly stretched her legs out over the front passenger seat and slipped off her plimsolls.
The shoes dropped into the seat, her red polished toenails catching the sunlight that filtered in through the windscreen.
“I can count three wing mirrors from here,” said Fiona.
Milly said nothing. She wriggled back into the seat and closed her eyes beneath her sunglasses.
“Did it take you long to do your toenails?”
Milly shrugged and her feet twitched as they hung over the seat in mid-air.
“Dad’ll be back soon,” said Fiona looking out of the window. “Where’s he gone anyway?”
Milly crossed one foot over the other hugging the head-rest with her knees.
“Do you think they’ll get back together ever, mum and dad?”
Milly shrugged again.
“Milly?” said Fiona.
Milly made a grunting noise. She unwrapped her legs, the skin on the backs of her knees unsticking themselves from the hot vinyl covered head-rest. She re-adjusted herself and pushed her sunglasses up onto the top of her head.
“What is it Fi?” she said. “Why do you keep asking me questions?”
“I just wondered, you know, if you think mum and dad will get back together again?”
“How should I know?” said Milly.
A dog wandered passed the car. Milly started biting her nails.
“Mum hates it when you do that,” said Fiona.
“That. Biting your nails.”
Milly inspected the nails on her right hand before raising her middle finger up at her sister.
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