There are a few things I’m very good at, but I wouldn’t call myself an expert at anything. For instance, I can fly a helicopter and rescue people from the ocean, I can paint a landscape and sell it for six figures, and I can stand on stage and sing to crowds of thousands.
You can see for yourself, I’m good. I think not calling myself an expert at anything is what makes me so humble.
She walks like she’s being followed, slow and fast, turning right four times and then left, watching her back all the time. She sees a cheat from a mile away and wonders why he’s cheating. Look at his beautiful wife, after all. She wishes she could look over her virtual shoulder, to see if they’re all copying her.
She waits.
Tension is her middle name.
Is that something burning?
Are the homeless really spies?
She’d have her groceries delivered if it wasn’t for that weird guy who works at the store.
What was that noise?
The bugs are coming in.
Your first mistake was thinking I’d care if you committed a small felony. Shoplifting is nothing – I know you did it for the kids.
Your second mistake was having a party to which I wasn’t invited. Yeah, it was for your kids, and your wife was there. But I wanted to come anyway. You told me you cared about me.
Your final mistake was telling me you cared about me… in the end. I made sure the cops found out who stole all those electronics. Now the kids don’t have a daddy. And your wife…
Your first mistake was thinking I’d care to keep your secret.
Mistake is the word of the day on The Daily Post.
Stream of Consciousness Saturday has a three-word prompt this week: your/you’re/yore. You can find it here: https://lindaghill.com/2016/08/26/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-august-2716/
“Oh look, here comes a witness. You were behind me at the intersection. What do you think? Was it obvious I was going to pull out?”
“Obvious you were going to pull out? What the hell are you talking about? Before you did move forward, you backed into me!”
“See? I told you. We collided because I had no idea what you intended to do. You, Sir, are up the river without a paddle.”
“It’s up the creek, shithead.”
“Indeed.”
“I think it was obvious I was going to pull out into the intersection.”
“I disagree.”
“Is that all you can say? You ‘disagree’?”
“Indeed it is. If it had been obvious you were going to pull out, we wouldn’t have collided.”
“Wouldn’t have collided. Wouldn’t have collided.”
“Why are you making fun of me?”
“Because we didn’t collide. YOU hit ME.”
“We should just wait for the police to get here.”
“Why? Why can’t we just exchange insurance information and go about our lives?”
“Because what you believe is obvious, isn’t. And besides. I think you’re drunk.”
“If I was drunk, I wouldn’t be standing here waiting for the cops. Would I, smartie pants?”
“Well at least we agree on one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I’m smarter than you are.”
“That’s not… Oh fuck it.”
In romance, there is a learning curve we all must traverse.
First kiss may seem like the ultimate in excitement, until it happens and we find ourselves liplocked with a drooling boy, with something hard shoved down his pants.
That first alien experience when we girls discover what that hard thing feels like directly. It drools also, much to our amazement.
The first time we let him fumble around – who knew bra straps were such a mystery?
And then, when we finally let him go all the way. For me that was to be with the altar behind us. Our wedding day was exhausting, with an evening spent socializing with everyone but him. I was nervous, naturally. Mostly because, despite the fact that all my romantic experiences up ’til then had not been what I expected, I had dreamed this moment would be perfection. Just like all the romance novels I’d read, where the heroine is worshiped by her man. Things always go so smoothly, don’t they?
I suppose my first mistake was thinking that a limo was a good idea, so he would be free to drink and not have to drive back to our hotel. Suffice to say my learning curve is complete: bra straps are even more a mystery, floors are hard, and drooling and snoring also go together.
This virgin bride will try not to step on him when I get up in the morning.
Gathering, church basement.
Sleeping Beauty: (stands) Hi. My name is Aurora and I’m an insomniac.
All: Hi Aurora.
Sleeping Beauty: It’s been three years since my last full night’s sleep. (shuffles feet and drops gaze) I’m addicted to romance novels. I can’t count how many times the sun has risen on a happily ever after.
***
Fifty is the one-word prompt at The Daily Post today.
Mary was standing at a bus stop, minding her own business, when a stranger approached her and asked her to take off her sunglasses. She did.
“You have the most beautiful eyes,” the man said breathlessly.
“I don’t have enough change to pay your fare,” she replied.
Sighing, the stranger moved on to the next person in line, who happened to be another man. The stranger walked away three minutes later with a bloody nose.
The crescent moon draws me in. Without you, I have reverted back to what I was at birth: a creature of the night. I live only in my dreams of you. By day, I waste away, a shadow of the man that existed when you, my love, made me shine.
***
From a work-in-progress.
Locked in a basement for months, with a dirty one-by-three-foot window her only evidence that the outside world still existed, she sometimes wished she was dead. Not because she had lost hope, but rather if she was a ghost, she could walk through the closed door to freedom.
She wanted nothing more than to return to a life with a man who didn’t know she was alive. To die in such a hell hole alone was unthinkable. Somehow, through her dreams and his, she would let him know she was alive.
***
From a work-in-progress.
Linda G. Hill 