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Remember the silver confetti, remember the party. Remember the boy’s name, Owen from Odessa, the way he smelled like Dillard’s department store at Christmas and tasted like cloves and mocha. Two hundred days later, out past the rain into the salty waves at the point, her scarf’s tucked tails beat a cumbia rhythm against her round belly.

Beth Thomas's work has recently appeared in Weave Magazine, Pank Magazine, Wigleaf, and other places. She is a senior editor at SmokeLong Quarterly.

 


"Tart" was my attempt to paint a little picture, something tiny, in as few words as possible while using the words required in the prompt (Confetti, Tart, Rhythm, Mocha, and Scarf, and the number 200). My aim was to raise questions and suggest a much larger scene, with things going on both externally and internally.






 





  


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