I will be totally honest: February 2019 kicked my ass.
Normally, February is a good month for me. It’s my birthday on the 25th and where I don’t celebrate it with a party every year, I do like it to be acknowledged, and I do see it as my special day. Seriously, 25 is not my lucky number for nothing.
However, this year February was not a good month.
About ten days before my birthday I started noticing that I was getting cranky. I thought this was because I found it difficult to keep up with all the February Photofest posts that poured into my inbox, but a couple of days later I had to admit that it wasn’t this. No, it was because I missed my mom so much, and the closer my birthday came, the more intense I missed her, and the harder I found it to keep up with February Photofest AND the entries of the Smut Marathon. It was really hard, and somewhere in all this I fell off the #Storyin12 wagon.
For February I wanted to try something different. I wanted to start telling a story with the prompt for day 1 and then continue it with every next prompt. I managed that up to about day 10, and then later in the month I caught up on several of the prompts and then I just gave up. I just couldn’t go on.
This is what I came up with…
Turning the string of pearls around her finger, she watched him. Unobserved.
Absentmindedly he drank from the disposable coffee cup, reading the morning paper.
Each time he quietly turned the page, she noticed his strong hands.
Ever since her retirement she drank her coffee here; what about him?
An airport announcement interrupted their business; then only they saw each other.
Their eyes stayed locked; more than briefly. What’s your story, she wondered.
Blushing, with a child’s shyness, she looked back down at her coffee.
On his phone – apple clearly visible – his face was serious.
“… survive…” the only word she caught. He hung up, looked at her.
“Will you be here tomorrow?” he asked, smiling, standing at her table.
“It depends whether it rains,” she said. Disappointment showed in his eyes.
Why did her remark remind him of tears? Because he was disappointed?
His sudden unsavory desire to spend more time with her, surprised him.
“I need to go,” he said, “the nurse is waiting.”
Staring at the fake ivy, her mind was filled with his presence.
A song on the radio reminded her of his voice, warming her.
The story I saw in front of me was two older people who happened to sit at the same airport coffee corner every morning, secretly eyeing each other and then of course finally starting to talk to each other. But, with my head not in the game, it just didn’t work the way I hoped it would.
I have decided to sit out of #Storyin12 for a little while. I do want to return to it, but I first need to get into a new blogging rhythm and to get my head back in the space it was in before February happened. I have noticed some darker thoughts happening again, and think I just might have overloaded myself with work some, so self care at this moment is much needed.
I will, however, not stop writing. I can’t. I am utterly incapable of doing so. It might just be that super-short fiction is not my thing.
© Rebel’s Notes