Sunday, May 29, 2016

Last Week #61 - Last Night's Dress

Going to a writer's group was the best decision I ever made. I'm able to tap into ideas and creative energy that I didn't know I had. All the people there are so supportive and kind. We laugh, share stories from our lives, but most importantly, we write. We don't judge. We push each other to be creative, to write deeper. This week at the group, I wrote a piece I'm thinking of hiding away. It was harsh and raw. It was important and I'm glad I wrote it. But it will be a long time before it ever sees the light of day. After diving so deep down, I like to think the other pieces I wrote had something extra in them too. I didn't get to go as far as I would like too, because of time constraints. What I'm including below I think will be a turning point for the main character in the novel I'm working on. It's very rough and unedited, but I know the bones are there for what I want the novel to be after this scene.

I had put most of clothes back on. The light shawl and jewelry I was wearing the night before was bundled next to my purse. Gram them and go, that’s all I had to do. The sun was just rising over the city building, brightening the clear sky. It would be another warm day. I’d have to take a cab or call for a ride, wearing least night’s dress.

I glanced through the open bedroom doorway. Ben’s breathing was slow and even. His arm had flung out to where my sleeping form had been. If my restlessness hadn’t awakened me, that certainly would have. Unsure if I should make my escape or wake him to say good-bye, I crept around the apartment. Masculine in décor, it was not overly large, but it was not tiny either. Perfect for a man with some money, who didn’t want to show off. Though he paid easily foe absolutely everything when we were out. I hadn’t noticed this before.

This had to be the last time. This infatuation was getting old and every time I entered this apartment, something felt off.  Every time I woke up here, I felt worse. I walked back over to the window, the light growing, I moved to close the blinds. Then I saw him. He thankfully was not looking up, but I recognized him. The menacing eyes, the cartoonishly obvious goatee that creamed, ‘devil’. He had practically dragged Ben out of the restaurant to have a ‘chat’. He had shown up on a walk we had been taking. Now he was here, parked outside Ben’s apartment. Was he watching Ben? Why? My sister and best friend seemed more than right.

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