Donna’s bell-shaped sleeves looked dangerously flammable.
I should’ve warned her. But I suspected she was too angry with me to listen to criticism or care about fire safety. She had asked me to wear a ceremonial robe to her Imbolc celebration, and I showed up in a red sundress and old combat boots.
“Ten bucks the fire department shows up tonight.”
“That’s terrible,” I said to the green-eyed stranger standing next to me, and wondered if he had read my thoughts. “I’m sure we can put her out before she flames on.”
We laughed, our hands over our mouths to disguise the mirth.
“Fire!” someone screamed.
I leapt to my friend’s aid, but stopped before I got to her. The High Priestess had snuffed out the flames. And thank goodness for that, since I was still laughing.
the wee notes…
– This is an oldie but goodie, a bit of truth (barely) dressed up as fiction… since the friend in question still glares when anyone brings up the flaming sleeves incident. And yes, I bring it up every chance I get. It’s just such a yummy way to celebrate The Return of the Light *cackles*.