This week’s prompt: ...the white horses were galloping…
At the Circus
“How much money you got?” Michael wiped his gluey nose on a sleeve.
“No way, Suze.”
The six-year-old opened a pudgy fist. “A nicko and two pennies. See.”
“Where’s the quarters?”
“Don’t know. Can we go to the Big Top now?”
“Check your pockets.”
“Nope. No korders.” The girl gaped at the circus tent shoving wispy bangs aside. “Can we go now?”
“Can’t. Oh, never mind. Let’s go.” He grabbed her hand.
The ground rumbled. They wriggled beneath a loose sidewall and gawked transfixed as the white horses were galloping into the ring.
“Hey, you!” Rough hands grabbed their britches.
“Run forit, Suze!”