Microfiction challenge #8: Tart noir, heel, eyes meeting

 “Is that a pistol in your pocket, or are you just glad to see me?”

“It’s a pistol.”

Libby shifted her gaze from the gun’s barrel. His formerly baby blues were now glacial.  

“I guess I wasted my money on these fuck-me shoes.”

“I’m not opposed to mixing business and pleasure.” He waved his gun towards the bed.

Taking advantage of the distracted crosshairs, Libby executed a classic tart noir maneuver.* The gun fired but failed to halt her forward momentum, his left eye a lava flow of colour and drama as she impaled it with a three-inch heel.

*Forgive me for this sketchy plot device. 

Microfiction challenge #7: Historical fiction, horizon, opening a window

  Open the window, Vladimir.

It’s cold.

Please.

He rolled it down an inch. Laika thrust her nose at the gap, whole body wagging.

It won’t be painful. And it will be quick.

Quick? Seven days? And barely able to move?

Vladimir reached for Irina’s right hand. She curled it into a fist and jammed it against her mouth to keep from punching him.

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How long was Laika able to view the thin blue horizon as Sputnik-2 orbited the earth? Not nearly as long as planned. But Vladimir didn’t tell Irina that. Let her swallow the Party's more palatable propaganda.

https://www.smithsonianmag.com/smithsonian-institution/sad-story-laika-space-dog-and-her-one-way-trip-orbit-1-180968728/