I've been quite busy with a newly published novel and another in the works, so some of these shorter stories are on tap for the LIT fans until it's less hectic.
I've read many of the 750-word projects related to the contest lately and have enjoyed most of them. Many were very creative. I've resisted that temptation too, until now. I never saw myself as very good at writing a story THAT short.
But then, while waiting for a client in a restaurant, I noticed something a few booths over that has always intrigued me -- perplexed me, is more like it. I hope you like my attempt. Let me know in the comments. So, minus this intro, and title, here's my 750-word story.
Relax; it's just a story, people.
I'd just finished the sports section of our local paper and was scanning the tabletop for the local section. The place we normally frequented was being remodeled. Glancing to my left, I caught myself in the full-wall mirror across the room from our table. What I saw was so disheartening it shocked my senses.
There, I saw my wife Connie of thirty-two years, sitting across from her husband, Dean. That's me. She was busy reading the entertainment section.
We've all seen it. That couple sitting in a restaurant or other public place, completely ignoring one another. How long had it been? I asked myself.
Almost two years ago, Connie, then 57, had made a dreadful mistake. I, 61 at the time, didn't see it as a mistake, though.
The short version was that Connie and three of her co-workers had arranged a little afternoon delight at a hotel on the other side of town. One of her cousins happened to be there and caught her just entering the elevator, talking her out of it. Screaming and embarrassing her was how I heard it actually went down.
Connie confessed, said she was feeling old and unwanted. She begged. I held off on divorce, not wanting to have to give up half of my life savings. I adopted a 'cheaper to keep her' mentality. That didn't mean I had to be kind or even talk to her -- much.
Our sex life consisted of once every other week. I'd say it was mechanical and just two people trying to get their needs met. We never cuddled at all.
Fly fishing had become my hobby and distraction. It was so peaceful out there away from the rat race my job had become. Away from a long-term wife hellbent on making things up to me.
I'd gone through to entire range of emotions and five stages of grief, then landed on indifference. Sadly, I'd determined I could not forgive her. She didn't go through with it, but she certainly would have, if not for fate.
