Don't ask me why, it just demanded to be written. Another 100 word drabble.
*****
It’s cold. I taste blood.
My hand draws across my mouth and comes away crimson. It’s been months since his last attack, but I still haven’t figured out why he hates me. As a gofer and wannabe photojournalist, I’ve never hurt anybody! Except when I tried to kill Lois, but even *she* doesn’t hold it against me.
Seeing him emerge from a stand of fir trees, I duck to avoid his next volley, but the icy snowball smashes into my tender nose and I yelp painfully. Tank Wilson’s maniacal laugh taunts me as I run.
It’s cold. I taste blood.
*****
