for "mini_nanowrimo" hence no friends lock 10
aww, i wrote a love story. well...a kind of love anyway. i was going to expand it, just to up the word count but i like the way it is, just like this. which is either a fault or artistic credibility. i could expand any one of these stories into something more tangible, something with background stories and whatnot but i like it just like this.
at least i made it over my word count. i've been over every day except for the first which was right on.
He should have known better. Thirty years old and still there is that thump, thump, thump in his chest every time he finds a woman to lust after. They always said he fell in love too easily. He didn't agree with them, fought them tooth and nail, until the last inevitable breakup. They didn't even blink when he told them this time.
"So, it's over . . ."
"I can't remember, is it two creams and a sugar or double milk and a sugar?"
There he is, seating on the train, watching this girl for more than an hour. One stop ago, he said if she didn't get off next he would get up and talk to her. She stayed on but is scribbling so frantically in her notebook that he cannot bear to disturb her.
He should have known better, but there he is, asking if the seat next to her is open. She pulls her bag toward herself, freeing the empty seat. She hasn't spoken. They do not speak. She blows on the page of her notebook and he catches a glimpse, he sees an inky sketch of an apple tree with a snake coiling seductively around the trunk. It is an obvious warning but he watches her lips purse, to blow gently and he is in love. Her stained fingertips caress the page once over before closing it to the world. He is going mad for her. She tips her head, suddenly making eye contact.
"Hello," she whispers. He is trembling like a helpless child. She is grinning like it was a calculated plan.
"H-hi. Hey." Another smile, softer, almost sympathetic. Her brown eyes are a swirl of unreadable emotion and he finds himself leaning forward oh so slightly.
"Where are you going?" she asks him.
"I. . .I thought I knew but now I think I'm a little lost," he answers.
i picked out the paint colours for my bedroom today. bright orange and a very pale blue-grey.
at least i made it over my word count. i've been over every day except for the first which was right on.
He should have known better. Thirty years old and still there is that thump, thump, thump in his chest every time he finds a woman to lust after. They always said he fell in love too easily. He didn't agree with them, fought them tooth and nail, until the last inevitable breakup. They didn't even blink when he told them this time.
"So, it's over . . ."
"I can't remember, is it two creams and a sugar or double milk and a sugar?"
There he is, seating on the train, watching this girl for more than an hour. One stop ago, he said if she didn't get off next he would get up and talk to her. She stayed on but is scribbling so frantically in her notebook that he cannot bear to disturb her.
He should have known better, but there he is, asking if the seat next to her is open. She pulls her bag toward herself, freeing the empty seat. She hasn't spoken. They do not speak. She blows on the page of her notebook and he catches a glimpse, he sees an inky sketch of an apple tree with a snake coiling seductively around the trunk. It is an obvious warning but he watches her lips purse, to blow gently and he is in love. Her stained fingertips caress the page once over before closing it to the world. He is going mad for her. She tips her head, suddenly making eye contact.
"Hello," she whispers. He is trembling like a helpless child. She is grinning like it was a calculated plan.
"H-hi. Hey." Another smile, softer, almost sympathetic. Her brown eyes are a swirl of unreadable emotion and he finds himself leaning forward oh so slightly.
"Where are you going?" she asks him.
"I. . .I thought I knew but now I think I'm a little lost," he answers.
i picked out the paint colours for my bedroom today. bright orange and a very pale blue-grey.