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Witch Apology
Devon sat hunched over the small writing desk in the rented apartment, the wooden chair creaking under his unfamiliar weight. The fitted light-blue bodice hugged his full, soft curves tightly, the central light-pink bow sitting neatly between the swell of his chest. Voluminous polka-dot puff sleeves ballooned around his arms, edged with soft pink pom-poms that brushed against the paper every time he moved. The full pastel-pink A-line skirt flared around his hips and thighs, the blue polka-dot peplum overskirt bouncing slightly with each shift, its hem trimmed in more pink pom-poms. Shimmery pastel rainbow shoes sparkled on his feet, metallic accents catching the afternoon light on the ankle straps. He picked up the pen, chewed the end for a second, and began to write in looping, exaggerated script. ---
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