She strutted down Main Street like a Parisian model. Her designer dress wasn’t purple; it was aubergine. Her shoes weren’t high heels; they were Manolo Blahniks. Jaws dropped as she passed by. There’d been whispers of her return, but no one thought she’d have time for the tiny hometown fair.
She made the time. The one now with the red lips to drive men crazy, she would finally be more than just the girl who fell into the mayor’s wedding cake.
She dished out a wink and a nod. Her new celebrity registered in every face, and her heart swelled. She reached the pumpkin patch at the end of the street and turned to give a final regal wave. As she pivoted, her heel caught on a stray gourd, and she lost her balance. Her regal wave turned to a flail as she tumbled backward into a pile of pumpkins.
Oh gourd, the town thought collectively, not again.
