• Fiction: My Side Of The Story (A Snippet)

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  • Fiction: My Side Of The Story (A Snippet)
  • Posted by: Lalanii, December 2, 2015
  • "Your amicable words mean nothing if your body seems to be saying something different." - James Borg


     


    INTRO 


    My Side Of The Story 


     


    My attempt at tiptoeing was giddy with wine, heels clonking as I stepped onto his tile. He quietly closed the door behind me. I walked over and widened my eyes; his living room view was content with three wall-to-wall windows and I could see tiny dull lights in the distance from the houses below. 


     


    My heartbeat was at the edges of my stomach. I could feel my own sweat. I pushed at his chest, he grabbed at my arm, I pulled away. 


     


    "Where's your red?" 


     


    "You want more wine?"


     


    "The drunk police is huurrrreee," I slur.


     


    A few seconds later I hear the cupboard slam. This is it. There is no going back now. But if I could go back, I would not go back. I would do this night over and over and over... he trips over the step that led from the kitchen back to dining room where I'm now plopped across his glass table. I pull my heels off and begin rubbing the sides of my feet where they're throbbing, then I snatch the glass from him and giggle. He tackles me and I fall to the floor clutching the wine glass with both hands like a football. 


     


    "See, this, this is why you don't need no more." 


     


    "Nuh, uh, this is why I do. Why is this empty?" I grab the glass above my head and shake it in the air then sit it on the table.


     


    As he is pouring I pick the glass up making it dance playfully - staring in his eyes.


     


    We spill nothing. 


     


    He leans in saying something I can't remember and he is definitely going to give me a talking-kiss. There is no better kiss in this world better than the talking kiss. This I know. This is coming from someone who doesn't like to kiss. This - from someone who rarely-ever kisses. This kiss is the kiss that never existed, because he didn't kiss me, then. 


     


    As he stands up and pulls away from the table he lifts his shirt off and I watch like some love-fickle romantic movie where my pupils swirl in a sedated state - staring at the spot his where abdomen turns to heaven. 


     


    ::::


     


    To Be Continued ... 


     


    ::::


     


    * "My Side of The Story" [acting title] - is a piece of nonfiction turned fiction. It is a tiny snippet of a longer piece of work in progress. It is currently being shopped to lit journals. Wish me luck. 


     



    Vendor Love: 💗



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