I'd like you to reveal the backstory of this acerbic septuagenarian to the rest of us. All we know of her is that she never takes a sick day, commands, never asks, and rules the front desk with an iron fist. She's not changed her go-to teased-to-the-heavens bouffant and sky blue eye shadow in the last 50 years, and her Malibu Barbie frosted pink lip is dissolving into the creases around her mouth. What ever happened to her to make her this way? Flash fiction or any length of poetry acceptable. Including the element of suspension of belief is a big bonus. Tag me, if you wish, for maximum visibility. #decrepitina