Friday Fictioneers: The Sign

“Where’s our seat?”

My brother pointed down toward the first row, “Come on.”

Reluctantly, I left the shade and braced for the intense heat and humidity. Way to buy tickets for the game on the hottest day of the year. As much as I love watching baseball, I do not enjoy sitting in these blistering hot seats.

“You got the sign ready for sign cam, sis?” He pointed at the screen.

Sign? Ugh, I groaned as I showed him the wrinkled piece of cardboard I’ve been sitting on for the last 15 minutes. “You mean this?”

“What. Did. You. Do?!”

(100 words)

For Friday Fictioneers

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15 thoughts on “Friday Fictioneers: The Sign

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