February 1, 2018, prompt: In 99 words (no more, no less) write a story that features something black and white. It could be a nun in a zebra monster truck, a rigid way of thinking, a bird in a tuxedo — be imaginative and go where the prompt leads.
Shaking her head she wondered why I argued when in her mind everything was black and white. Basically she was right I was wrong. No mater how often I argued she always left me knowing I was wrong. It was a pointless and fruitless exercise, a wasted breath on my part. She had a way with words.
Like the night she set fire to the garbage bin and once it was extinguished, spent the next two hours convincing me it was all my fault. I committed to being more careful around the garbage bin. At least outwardly I did.