“You’re kidding. You like this?” She held up a shirt in flat brown. Ugly as sin.
“No. Like this.” I found a heathered sweater, three shades of brown twisted together to make a texture and pattern. Soft, too. And warm, like logs on the fire, hardwood floors, animal pelts, and food. Ancient, earthy, real.
“Oh.” She reached for something blue.
The challenge, should you choose to accept it, is to write a story in exactly 55 words. Flash Fiction 55 is hosted by the G-man, a host with the most.