In a reverse-journey from riches to rags, Moet to Marxism, Kylie was dossing down in a dilapidated squat, albeit with Daddy’s credit card. Hugh, the acting student, knew nothing about that. He was a foreign student.
“Rapunzel! Rapunzel! Let down your hair.”
Kylie peered over the rusty, corrugated iron rooftop, beaming a knockout smile.
“Alas, handsome Prince, my hair has been cut.”
“What about a ladder? My chariot awaits.”
Gobsmacked, Hugh watched Kylie leap acrobatically over the rafters, and land at his feet…an enigma, a question mark.
Although the pressure was mounting, she said nothing. The gold medal could wait.
This is another contribution to Friday Fictioneers hosted by Rochelle Wishoff Fields. BTW the Hugh in the story might just happen to be Hugh Jackman who was our local heartthrob when I was at school. I still remember a friend going Hugh Spotting on the trains and I’m sure she wasn’t the only one. However, that doesn’t play into this story. I only borrowed the name.