20 March 2011

A story found

Hi guys, I was trolling thru my hard drive and I found this story that I had began to write and stopped like I usually do with my creative writing. In the past I've always started passionately with one story and then dropped like it's hott. I reread it and realized how much of my creative writing is me talking to/showing myself realities that I just don't want to deal with or can't. See what you can get out of this one. It's short and was meant to be something I could turn into a movie, as I write how I visually see it in my mind. Oh, and don't hate... I'm not a professional ;)

From Across the Table:

She smiled politely towards him from across the dark breakfast table. The bone white plates contrasted the rest of the table settings. He sat there eating his breakfast and catching up on the day’s news on his mobile. There were no sounds of silverware clanking or the fan spinning above, just the always present sounds of clicking. As she studied her low calorie breakfast and contemplated whether or not she should drink the rest of her juice, she made a discovery that made her face cringe. She stared at a man who looked flawless, whose ability to turn heads was second to none… and she hadn’t touched him in two months.

“I’ve scheduled a client meeting on Tuesday with the people from downtown.” He said with complete abandonment. She couldn’t remember the last time they spoke, or the last time they shared a thought… a laugh… the same breath of air.

Tears had never surfaced and it seemed that crying would have been out of place. She gets up and walks over to her purse, grabs it and goes to the kitchen. She took her birth control pill and the magic light green pill that dulled life enough to smile for another hour. She returns to the table. “Pass the ketchup.” She managed to get out. He looks up from his phone not having noticed that she left the room. “Sure.” He uttered as his focus turned once again to the mornings events.

The after breakfast ritual was the same every morning and would continue as usual. He finished up reading his e-mails and noted his to-do list while she picked up the dirty dishes. It seemed but never noticed that breakfast was only for show, like many other things in their lives; half of the food that was prepared was always thrown away. She pulled out a wine glass and sat it down. It tipped and swayed and finally fell down shattering as it hit the floor. The thought that made her cringe had betrayed her. She bent down and started scooping up the fragmented glass and delicately tried to scoop up whatever she could.

He was in the closet getting dressed. The way he fastened his tie almost passionately mimicked the way that he used to touch her. This time of morning was always special for him for it was the start of another great day at work. His following actions were always choreographed. He walked through the house grabbing his keys, messenger bag, and traveling cup of coffee. He passed the hallway mirror as usual and caught his reflection. After breakfast is when he stroked his ego.

She was enchanted by the shards of what once was a wine glass. The glass refracted light like crushed diamonds. He passed the kitchen oblivious of everything. His shifting dance from the closet to the car continued flawlessly. He did not receive his usual kiss on the cheek or his “have a good day at work sweetie”.

and that's as far as I got.


  1. "He was in the closet getting dressed."

    (And even when he wasn't getting dressed?)


  2. Lol, Yeah i caught that. BTW I wrote this before coming out to my wife. Before I even admitted to myself that I was indeed... not straight.

  3. Bobby: The shattered wine glass -- an allusion to clarity of purpose of your marriage, but now broken? Oh what do I know, I'm no critic. This could well be the introduction to a great porno film for all I know. :-)

    Perhaps you should finish the story so we get the full idea of what you were trying to convey.