I had two short things I wanted to put up here, but I'm just not sure they're ready. So, I pulled out the way back machine—otherwise know as the flash drive that contains backups of all the stuff I've written, just so I have it on me at all times. You never know, right? Trust me, you never know. I pulled up a short story I'd drafted twice called "Reunion" and started giving it another read for the first time since last May.
Image removed because I can't find the attribution.
You know what it is? It's one of those shorts where I'm not sure if I love it or hate it. And that, my friends, is where you come in. I'm going to post the first few paragraphs here because I want some serious impressions. I feel like there's something missing, or wrong, but I've tinkered with it too many times to be able to tell. Too close to the situation, so I'm going to recuse myself and let you all rip it up.
And, with the seriousness of a shop owner in China dying after a woman squeezed his balls too long and hard, your honest feedback is appreciated.
Tom sat alone at a table for two, a glass of water and an empty bottle of Bud Light in front of him. The label had been peeled off while he waited. Eying the basket of bread, he forced himself to look away. The last thing he needed was more bread. His stomach was already stuffed enough on the carb overload; certainly another slice wouldn't help. Instead, he attempted to tie another knot into the straw he had pulled from his water glass. There were already five straws, each with five knots marking the twenty-five minutes he had been waiting past the time they were to meet. It was better than chewing his fingernails—a habit he had tried, unsuccessfully, to lose. The waitress, looking more concerned with each pass she made by the table, asked again if he needed anything.
“I’m fine for now, thank you. I’ll just wait until my party arrives.”
She nodded and a few loose strands of blonde hair fell into her face. As she had done each time prior, she pushed the strays behind her ear as she left to check on her other tables. Tom decided that she deserved a generous tip after he had hogged her table on such a busy night. Giving in, he was reaching for another piece of bread when he heard a familiar voice from the direction of the hostess stand. Her voice.
“I’m supposed to be meeting someone.”
This isn't the whole thing, but just the beginning. So...hit me.
Word to the Nerd