Her husband approached, a goofy, eager look on his face. Irritated, she looked up from her conversation.
“A rose for a rose,” he said, handing her the flower with a flourish.
“Elliot, please.” She frowned, turning back to her guest.
She was Stuart’s boss. I hated the frequent evenings in her company we were forced to endure. I watched her ineffectual husband, the faithful jester, currying for favor, each attempt doomed to failure. The pair’s unhappiness was viral, a contagion threatening to spread.
Urgently, fearfully, I whispered in Stuart’s ear. “Promise we’ll never be like them!”
Stuart, looking away, yawned.
Word Count: 100
Author’s Note: This story is written in response to a challenge issued by VerbalVerbosity (found here) to write a 100 word fiction based on the word ‘jester.’