She and he were so alike. She had her way with men – a come-and-get-me swagger. Same with him. Fearless. Bulls, he said, never tested his nerve, but the street wore his broad-stroke-stain like a sickly smile. She buried him Saturday, and prayed for him Sunday.
A new toreador arrived today, and she readied herself.
Written for G-Man 55FF (55-word flash fiction)