Monday, February 18, 2013


Okay, so I guess if you are a fan of my fiction, then this is your lucky night.  Here is another from that same time period.  I think I had intended to tell the whole story, but, I could never really get past this point, and realized that maybe this was enough of a story.  I think this qualifies as micro-fiction?  I dunno.

The Big City

Her cerulean eyes glowed like that one perfect May day during the blossoming of our romance, when we lay together in the soft green grass, surrounded by our favorite flower – a weed to some – the dandelion, and just enjoyed the moment of timeless bliss in comfortable silence.

“Chicago,” her soft pink lips that tasted of berry-flavored lip gloss said, springing my mind back to reality.  “Let's move to Chicago.”

We sat together at our kitchen table – our forks lifting macaroni and cheese goodness to our mouths, chewing and swallowing, to satisfy our hungers built from a day's work at our low-paying jobs – and tried to predict the future: our future.

Prediction had, nearly a year removed from that perfect May date that bloomed our love and started our lives together, become a favorite past-time of ours, and an Ohio future looked bleak.

“How can we afford that?” I, the realist, at least between her and I, said.

She pursed her lips as her eyes bounced about and the wheels of her brain turned around – she was always careful to choose the right words, especially when trying to persuade an English major – and thought for just an instant about what to say.  The logic that she had used to justify it to herself swirled about in her mind, vaguely hidden behind her pretty face.

"Anyway we can..."

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