One Line. Or Two. November 12, 2012Posted by nrhatch in Blogging, Fiction, Word Play, Writing & Writers.
One line or two.
As if she could summon whatever it is that makes up the human soul as easily as she could a cab on a busy New York avenue.
Deirdre stared at the steady stream of urine, hands shaking as she readied to take the plunge.
The cascading stream divided, water parting to flow with seamless effort around the intruding stick. If only life flowed around all obstacles with such ease.
Deirdre withdrew the saturated stick, her fate held in trembling hands.
One line or two. One line or two. C’mon. C’mon. C’mon.
One line or . . .
Cal slammed into the bathroom. Deirdre flinched and dropped the stick. She watched it tumble away.
“Well . . . are you pregnant or not?”
“Not,” Deidre murmured, slumping to the floor. She grabbed the white stick.
Cal glared. “Next month, or I’m filing for divorce.”
Deidre stared at her clutched fist until his shadow disappeared. Footsteps clomped. She didn’t exhale until the front door slammed.
Deidre unzipped the packed suitcase stowed under the bed. She removed the signed divorce papers and tossed them onto Cal’s pillow.
I left you a long time ago, Cal.
One more look at the stick. Two lines. She zipped her suitcase, secret inside, and walked out the door without a backwards glance.
* * * * *
For the Trifecta Anniversary Challenge, teams of two competed by completing a short story using the italicized prompt as a starting block.
My contribution follows the italicized prompt. Janna’s conclusion (green text) ends the story.
Thanks for a great write, Janna. Write on!