Monday, October 20, 2014

A Taste of the Yet to Be Titled Novel


Just a little nibble.... This doesn't tell you where I'm going with this, but it does provide a clue to the writing style. 

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There he was, sitting across from the 20-something, busty, blond gently caressing the inside her forearm from the tips of her petite little wrist to her elbow and back. He gazed lustily into her young naïve eyes then poignantly allowed his eyes drop to her prominent cleavage. I knew exactly what has doing; he used the same seductive move on me 3 years ago. He was not aware I was there, watching their interaction from across the restaurant. It was Girls Night Out; I was supposed to be at some rowdy bar somewhere partying it up with my girlfriends. After 2 yrs of living together, he still didn’t understand was that our Girl’s Nights are usually very low-key wine and bitch sessions.

I excused myself from the table where I had, only moments ago, been laughing with my friends and walked confidently across the room. I was internally shaking in anger and ready to explode into a fit of tears, but I refused to let him see it. When I got to their table, they both looked up at me; he with shock and fear in his eyes from what he expected to be an embarrassing scene, she confused and a bit annoyed that her romantic moment had been interrupted. I simply looked him directly in the eye and said, “It’s over” then turned on my heel and strode away from them.

I stopped by my table, picked up my purse, and started out the door. To my surprise, and without a word, my four friends who had been watching me in awe began tossing cash on the table to cover our bill. They all followed me out into the balmy, midsummer evening. 


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