Because I am pressed for time, this will be short and sweet. Or short and not so sweet. Here are three lines for the 3rd.
She thrust to her feet and began to pace again, pounding across the floor, her silly, useless slippers so thin she could feel every bit of grain in the rough wood floor — every scattered, splintered rush. She cursed as she tripped over her torn hem, and caught herself against the wall. She hated the gown almost as much as the shoes.
And I leave it to you, my trusty readers, to tell me which of my three WIPs it is from. Should be relatively easy.
I’m out of here. Don’t forget to visit the other WIPpeteers, and don’t be afraid to join in on the fun because . . .