In the writing group I attend twice a month, we had to use these words to start a story:
Fork, Cantaloupe, Fluffy, Lost, Acuity, Pompous, Sporadic, Desire, Repugnant, Navajo, Vermillion, Fog, Rancid
Do you think this is worth developing?
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My face flushed vermillion as Grandma prodded the rancid cantaloupe with her fork.
"Repugnant!" she exclaimed through lips twisted in disgust.
Considering how sporadic my visits were, I would have thought she would be a bit more charitable toward my attempt at a gift. But as she continued in this vein, pompously denouncing my melon-choosing abilities, I could feel my visual acuity being diminished by the fog of humiliation that smothered my senses.
Wringing my fluffy mohair scarf in my white-knuckled hands, I realized I had lost any desire I might have had to stay to tea. What I really wanted was to spit on the old, threadbare Navajo rug beneath my feet and storm out in a huff, never to return.
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