She sat at the kitchen table, eating. 2 plates, 2 glasses, only her at one end of the table.
When she was little, her parents thought this was cute, only to late did they get alarmed, when she announced them she’s engaged with Fred, her invisible friend.
She’s been looking for minutes at the glass, at the stirring tea inside, hypnotized.
Andrew has been stirring for a while, looking down, at the table and through it. The tension was so high, you could feel it’s weight on your shoulder. They haven’t spoken to each other in a while, they didn’t know why, but for sure they could blame it on the break up.
“You could just say it!”
“You could say you don’t love me any more instead of keeping this awkward silence all the time” she said while arranging the flowers on the grave
For some time now, i’ve been a likey of this page VeryShortStories on facebook. many lines written there made me imagine a short story of dream of imagining one. I don’t know why I picked this one out of so many to do so, but here’s the image it created:
Duane drenched himself with cologne before his date with Sara, trying to cover the fact he’d become one of the undead over the weekend.Work has exhausted him, deadlines, worksheets, selling his house and trying to find a new appartment, dealing with long delayed payments, had made him cry several times. It was like everything was turning against him.
Why this? Why now?
He felt finished, out of life, energy and hope. His back was curling from the weight of his problems and he felt like he couldn’t handle it anymore.
He looked at himself in the mirror, arranging his tie, he was grey. Hasn’t eaten anything in days, stood only inside the house trying to figure things out. “one more day and I would have forgotten how outside looks like”, he said, looking at a window. Turned again to the zombie in the mirror, looking at him repeatedly trying to tie a knot. A smirk on his face – “poor sucker, even a tie beats him”, followed by a straight face. “that’s me”. “that’s me” he said one more time not knowing if to cry or to get angry. “me” he said while the tie from his hands felt on the carpet. “Me”.
How many times have we not felt like this, like a zombie stuck in a different body (life) than the one we have imagined? This story could go many ways from here, it’s up to each of us to choose what turn will it take.