Author's note: I took a short story writing class a while ago, and the mantra the teacher kept repeating was "Don't tell me, show me." That is, don't write down what a character is thinking or feeling ("he became angry..."), demonstrate it through what he or she does ("he spit on the ground through gritted sneer..."). As I think about the stories I've written so far, I realized I rely heavily on exposition.
So I gave myself a challenge to write a story with absolutely no explanatory text, no internal dialogue, no feelings, and I could only write about what can be audibly heard or visibly seen. No "she felt as if..." or "he thought that he..." or "she was a shy girl who..." or "she felt an orgasm..." or "he saw her and thought she was beautiful" or anything. The challenge is that all characterizations, all the backstory, all the thoughts and emotions can only be shown through dialogue or by visible actions.
It actually turned out to be harder than I thought it would be, and each time I edit this, I keep finding places where I inadvertently slipped in some internal thought or feeling, but you may find some that I missed. Anyway, here is the resulting story, I hope you enjoy it.
-BR
Roommates
Chapter 1: Don't Call Me Baby
It was an overcast day, unusually chilly for mid-April Sunday afternoon, with traces of the sun starting to peek through the dense clouds as Mark loaded the last of her boxes into her car.
When he turned towards Marcia, she extended to him a friendly handshake just as he leaned in to give her a hug, and they awkwardly embraced for a few brief seconds. "Please keep in touch," she said as they let go, in a voice that became quieter by the end of her sentence, "The other side of the city isn't that far away if you ever want to get together."
"Absolutely," he said with a flat smile. "Let's do that soon. Take care." A faint breeze blew between them for several seconds, and she gave him a quick nod.
She turned and waved to her now former-roommates. Dee and Jen smiled and waved back from the sidewalk beside the parking lot without much enthusiasm.
Once Marcia sped off down the street and disappeared around the corner, the three of them kept standing in the parking lot silently. Mark finally broke the silence, "So that's it, I guess," Mark sighed. "Ten months ago, we were flirting at the gym, and now.... I guess it's back to the Ashtray."
Dee snorted, "I love that name. Did you come up with that name or did Marcia?"
"Marcia," Mark smiled. "She said the apartment smelled like an ashtray, y'know how her asthma was. And my roommates loved it and still call the apartment that. So..." He looked up at them with a hesitant smile. "Anyway, thanks for letting me come over so much. Like constantly, all the time."
"Of course," Jen smiled, pushing her curly, dark blonde hair backwards off of her shoulder. Her baggy clothes that usually obscured her figure were rippling in the breeze just enough to show her svelte frame.
Dee snapped her attention to Mark. "Wait, hold up. You're still coming over for Friday Binge Night, right?" She wasn't wearing makeup and her silky hair was dancing in the light breeze, and Mark couldn't help but blush when he looked at her. "If you don't want to because you're too sad or too many memories, I understand," Dee said sympathetically pulling some auburn-brown strands out of her eyes.
"No, it's not that. It's just...." he stammered. "Now that she's gone, I didn't know if you all would still want me to.... just drop by."
Dee walked towards him with her arms out, and Mark quickly wiped his sweaty palms on his jacket just as Dee gave him a big hug. She was wearing a fleece jacket that did little to hide her large breasts pressing against his chest. "I'm sorry about Marcia. But we're still friends, right?" She looked at him expectantly and then grinned when he nodded in an exaggeratedly sheepish motion, "Great! And just to make sure," she smirked, "you're still bringing the Thai food, right?"
"Aaaah, I get it," throwing his head back a little, "Now I see the REAL reason you want me to come over!"
Dee laughed and took a step back, keeping her hands on his arms. "I'm glad you're still here."
A warm smile erupted on his face, "Me too."
-=-=-=-=-=-=-
Mark and Jen were sitting in the living room when Dee came bursting through the door. "I am so sorry! Damn it!" she shrieked as she tried taking her shoes off. She was dressed professionally in a turtleneck shirt and corduroy dress, but her voluptuous figure was bouncing around as she barreled through the room. "We had a mandatory meeting! On Friday afternoon!! Friday!! Can you fucking believe that? My boss can be a giant-ass prick sometimes! And traffic was a goddamn nightmare! Fuck! Fuck! I'm sorry for being late! Fuck!"
Mark and Jen snickered at each other. Mark commented, "I love it when she gets anxious."
Dee bolted across the room yelling "Let me get comfortable. Don't start without me!" The last part of her sentence was muffled as she ran into her room, not bothering to close the door behind her.
"Is she anxious? Gee, what gave it away?" Jen replied as Dee continued shouting several "fucks" in her room.
"So anyway," Mark continued, "you were saying about Rob?"
"I just don't get it!" Jen resumed in an exasperated voice. "We've been dating four years! We're not in college anymore, we both have good jobs, so why doesn't he want to get married?"
"Maybe he wants to wait until he has a job that doesn't send him out to other offices around the country every other week?"
Jen sighed, "Maybe. I'm just tired of waiting."
Mark took a drink from his water bottle, then replied "You could always ask him to marry you!"
"That's not how it works!" Jen thought for a few seconds. "I mean, I know some women do it now. But I could never do anything like that. I can't even talk to strangers at a party, can you imagine me proposing? I'd be a nervous wreck!"
"It's not easy for guys either," Mark pointed out. "At least I assume so. I've never actually done it."
"I'm glad you're going to keep coming here," Jen cocked her head with a friendly smile. "You're one of the few people I feel comfortable talking to."
He sighed, "I'm glad I came too. I really needed this. To know that everything is going to go back to normal."
Jen looked past him and exclaimed, "Oh my god! Are you serious?" Mark turned to where Jen was looking and saw Dee emerge from her room. She was wearing nothing but a lace-mesh red thong and an extremely low-cut white T-shirt that stopped above her navel that was stretched to its limit so thin over her constantly jiggling breasts that it was easy to see she was no longer wearing a bra.
"What? I've been trapped in that suffocating outfit all day and I just wanted to.... y'know, hang loose tonight. Among friends." Dee turned to Mark and tugged on her shirt. "We're all adults, right? Does this bother you?" she said as she began turning around, showing that her thong strap disappeared between her buttocks and did not hide one millimeter of her round ass.
"No, I don't mind." Mark said, somewhat loudly before adding in a softer tone, "You look great. I mean... it's fine."
"See?" Her mocking tone made Jen roll her eyes. Dee smiled and sat down on the other side of the couch from Mark.
"Of COURSE he doesn't mind!" Jen sputtered. "He's a guy!"
"He wants me to be relaxed and comfortable," she said with a grin. "I'm glad you like it." She looked at his lap out of the corner of her eye and sniggered a little. "I guess you reeeally like it, huh?"
Mark looked down and saw he had a stiff boner trying to push up and release itself from his sweatpants. "Oh my god! I am... so..."
"It's ok," Dee giggled. "Guys get erections. That's what guys are supposed to do. It's a good thing." She smiled warmly at Mark and then put her gaze back down to his crotch. "And from what I can tell, it's a very large thing." With that, both Dee and Jen burst out laughing.
Mark put his hands over his crotch. "All right! All right! Hardy har har!" he said with an impish scorn, like a school principal trying to settle down an auditorium of rowdy teenagers. Dee and Jen continued giggling as Mark gave everyone their usual Thai orders.