A few days ago someone looked at my profile and noted that I listed myself as a writer. They then asked when they could expect something from me. I had to scratch my head on that one… it’s true that I did join a local writers group, but my fiction and poetry has taken a back seat to my small business launch. I was given an assignment to start a short story which I did start it but honestly, I have no idea where I want to go with it. The story is about Layla and Tony. I started writing out the character descriptions and I’m really trying to imagine what it’s like to walk in the foot steps of these two characters. It’s a little difficult to wrap my mind around Tony because, I’m not a man, and the men I’ve dealt with in the past weren’t what I want to see in Tony. I want to tell you more, but that would spoil the fun as my two characters are quite unique (at least to me since I rarely read about this kind of couple).  I haven’t attempted to write a short story since high school so please have mercy, but I would love your feedback let me know if I have something with this…(oh this is also my first draft)…

Tony seemed all too eager to walk away from me. It’s not like we hadn’t argued before, but somehow this was different. This time I had drawn a line in the sand and had the nerve to be angry when he wouldn’t tread across it. What hurt most is that my words bounced off his chest, he just didn’t care anymore. I just knew this was the beginning of the end. I screamed at him, my burning eyes pleading, as he turned to walk away knowing good and well he didn’t hear a thing. Despite the venom pouring from his rapid hand movements, I still loved him, I hated him too, but I loved him all the same. That night, I cried salty tears alone in a cold bed. When I saw that at 3 AM he still hadn’t returned home, my thoughts raced and I began to hyperventilate. What was I going to do? Who could I turn to?  What would everyone think of me? What would mama think?  How the heck was I supposed to explain that I couldn’t keep a happy home when I fooled everyone into thinking I had it all figured out? I had somehow conquered the evil stares, ignorant gestures and downright rude comments from onlookers, but couldn’t deal with the demons of my insecurity, and pride. I sucked for air to regain a steady flow of oxygen. I knew that I had become disillusioned when I felt a strong pair of arms holding me, attempted to make peace in a world that was crashing all around me. I woke up the next day on the bathroom floor. Tony wasn’t coming back.

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