Writing Contest - Issue 25

Blinking like a mole, Emily escapes her desk. Outside she shivers in the English March wind and cuddles into her woolly scarf.

She snuffs up the smell of rising green, feeling the push of spring bulbs new-green against cake-crumb earth: snowdrops and purple crocus, thrusting free, even through tarmac.

Walking into town, spring sunlight flashes from car mirrors, window panes, oily puddles, angel wings, and marble gravestones. Lake ripples glitter. The clouds are grey canyons, eroded by blue-river sky.

Story spring-cleaning waits in her warm computer burrow. But for now she is transfixed by shimmering leaves and wind through the willows.

“Tears make you look ridiculous.” She throws words at me like stones.

“He left me!” I scream, sucking in salty droplets mixed with diluted smoky black mascara.

“Listen, you took this job to meet Mr. Right, and that jerk ain’t him. What if The One walks in tonight? Do you really think he’s going to look twice at a snot soaked face?” Her judgmental eyes stare at me.

“Fine.”

I silently fix dark makeup, thickly reapply lipstick and adjust my lacy black garter.

After she nods an approval, I slowly walk to the stage for my final dance of the night.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I can’t think of anything to write.”

“Why don’t you write about what you love?” She smiles and runs her hand through my hair.

“Good idea,” I say. “I’ll write about how Ben and Jerry have elevated the lowly pistachio nut.”

She removes her hand from my head and tightens her lips. Her face turns red.

Then I hand her the love poem I wrote just for her.

“You sweet, sweet man.” She kisses me.

She slips me a supermarket receipt with Ben and Jerry’s Pistachio Pistachio circled.

“I bought it yesterday,” she says. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”