‘At least we didn’t come as a pantomime horse, babe,’ gasped Sally.
Her mascara had regressed from black supernovae to streams of grey weeping down her cheekbones. As her best friend, I should have told her she resembled a clown panda, but it was her stupid idea we run a marathon and as my heels bubbled with blisters and pain shattered every cell of me one molecule at a time, I wondered how I was friends with a woman who can’t leave her bedroom without full make-up and a fresh coat of nail polish.
What I needed was a friend who suggested lunch in a gastropub, not a marathon; who told me how amazing I am, not how tired I looked. And who didn’t poach my boyfriends because I was sure you wouldn’t mind, cos he’s really good looking and sort of suits me more than he does you. You know?
New best friend wanted: time wasters need not apply.
For Sonya at Only 100 Words’ Three Line Tales. See the photo and write a story to match.