Lunchtime Chronicles: Peach Cobbler

August “Trip” Gentry

Peaches Monroe became the woman I hated most overnight, but when she stepped out of her pink Lamborghini clad in a head-to-toe pink ensemble – mini skirt, long sleeve tee, a belt that proudly declared Texas as her new home, and a cowgirl hat perched atop a mane of jet black hair that reached past her peach, looking like a misplaced Barbie doll, I immediately start to falter. The glint of steel in her dark brown eyes hinted at a strength that went beyond the runway, and intrigue sparked fire in my gut. Peaches, a walking contradiction and annoyance in my peaceful world of beige and green, had become an unwelcome itch in my brain, but I found myself wanting more. I couldn't explain it, but this so-called city girl I was so determined to hate flipped my world upside down. Still, despite all that, her new roommate's goal was to send her crying back to the big city. It's time to show Peaches who runs shit around here.