Getting Smaller Every Day

Prompted flash fiction: spider, scissors, produce section (plus a Special Guest Story)

Fluorescent light gleamed on the steel blades shaking in Ang’s right hand. Thunder sounded somewhere behind her, and the shaking worsened. An old lady pushed her cart around the corner of the aisle, saw Ang, frowned, and backed away, out of sight.

“Ang,” I said, “don’t do it.”

The scissors wavered in her hand. 

“Please.” 

“Why not?”

“Because I’m begging you …