The mop spread the apple juice more than it absorbed it. Ian’s mind was lost somewhere between the bucket’s unpleasant smell, his sticky shoes, and his internal argument about the dominant color: tired yellow or dirty white? Mini-mart: the worst Instagram filter.
Then, the mop collided with a splash of purple. Purple peep-toe stilettos to be exact.
A shrieked erupted. Ian instinctively looked at the source: his manager, the woman with more make-up than face.
“You’re fired!” She bellowed.
“No need for drama.” Miss Purple chuckled. “I have an excuse to buy new ones.” She winked at Ian. “Drive me?”
This is a drabble for Monday’s prompt.