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The Picture
I still keep her picture in my wallet. It’s been five years and I still keep her picture in the front sleeve, right next to my driver’s license. I really should throw it out.
“Is that your wife?” the cashier behind the counter asks me, with that sort of faux-interest only someone who is forced to interact with you for twenty seconds gives. He’s a young guy, probably no older than twenty, with a thin mustache and a poorly groomed sidebeard. He looks me in the eyes and smiles.
“Ex-wife.” My affect is deadpan, but I shoot the cashier a hollow smile. I’m sure he can see the bitterness in my eyes, but I try anyways to hide it.
“Oh.” His smile is gone. He suddenly shifts his gaze away from me to the case of cheap draft beer I have sitting on the counter. He doesn’t probe any further. “$21.67, please.”
I hand him my card, and as he’s ringing it up, I say, “She’s a real pretty lady, huh?”
There’s a long period of awkward silence while the cashier tries to decide the safest response to give. No doubt he’s also kicking himself for asking the question in the first place.
“Uh… Yeah,” he mutters half-heartedly. He hands me back my card.
“Yeah…” I echo.
The receipt machine’s printing seems deafeningly loud in the empty convenience store.
The kid perks up immediately, grateful for the distraction from this line of conversation.
“Gonna need a signature,” he says, sheepishly. He shifts uncomfortably as he watches me sign.
I sign a bunch of squiggles that barely resemble my name and hand it back to him.
“Thanks.”
There’s another awkward pause. I sigh and tear open the case, grab a beer, and place it on the counter. “Take this, for putting up with me.”
“Sir, I can’t take this.”
I just wave my hand and walk out the sliding glass door. I eye a trashcan, and take the picture out of my wallet. The edges are worn and the back is creased, but it’s in pretty good condition otherwise.
It’s a not a professional shot or anything. In fact, it’s a bit blurry, as if the camera had shifted just before it was taken. It’s the two of us, together, her standing in front of me while I hold her thighs from behind. Even with the poor quality, her beauty seems to radiate from the frame.
I should just pitch this in the trash right now. But I don’t. I can’t just throw it away without. I flip it over. There’s writing on the other side, neatly and lovingly inscribed in cursive. I know what it says. I could recite it by heart. But I feel the need to read it one last time, as sort of a tribute.
Steven, when things are difficult, look at this photograph to remember this day, the day you made me the happiest girl alive. If you are sad, or hurt, or depressed, remember that I will always be here for you.
I love you, now and forever.
--Hannah
There’s a little mist in my eyes as I read this for what has to be the thousandth time. Never fails to get me. I loosen my grip on it, but I stop myself just before I let go. It still seems so true, so real, like the emotion is right there on the paper.
I love you, now and forever.
I take a deep breath, and put it back in my wallet. I wish I could just toss it out. But I can’t.
I sigh and walk back to my car. I pop open a beer and take a long chug before smashing the can on the dashboard and tossing it in the passenger seat, which is filled with cheap beer cans. I place the case of beer next to me in the passenger seat.
“Buckle up, sweetheart, we’re going for a ride,” I whisper.
The beer cans rattle as I drive off.
“Is that your wife?” the cashier behind the counter asks me, with that sort of faux-interest only someone who is forced to interact with you for twenty seconds gives. He’s a young guy, probably no older than twenty, with a thin mustache and a poorly groomed sidebeard. He looks me in the eyes and smiles.
“Ex-wife.” My affect is deadpan, but I shoot the cashier a hollow smile. I’m sure he can see the bitterness in my eyes, but I try anyways to hide it.
“Oh.” His smile is gone. He suddenly shifts his gaze away from me to the case of cheap draft beer I have sitting on the counter. He doesn’t probe any further. “$21.67, please.”
I hand him my card, and as he’s ringing it up, I say, “She’s a real pretty lady, huh?”
There’s a long period of awkward silence while the cashier tries to decide the safest response to give. No doubt he’s also kicking himself for asking the question in the first place.
“Uh… Yeah,” he mutters half-heartedly. He hands me back my card.
“Yeah…” I echo.
The receipt machine’s printing seems deafeningly loud in the empty convenience store.
The kid perks up immediately, grateful for the distraction from this line of conversation.
“Gonna need a signature,” he says, sheepishly. He shifts uncomfortably as he watches me sign.
I sign a bunch of squiggles that barely resemble my name and hand it back to him.
“Thanks.”
There’s another awkward pause. I sigh and tear open the case, grab a beer, and place it on the counter. “Take this, for putting up with me.”
“Sir, I can’t take this.”
I just wave my hand and walk out the sliding glass door. I eye a trashcan, and take the picture out of my wallet. The edges are worn and the back is creased, but it’s in pretty good condition otherwise.
It’s a not a professional shot or anything. In fact, it’s a bit blurry, as if the camera had shifted just before it was taken. It’s the two of us, together, her standing in front of me while I hold her thighs from behind. Even with the poor quality, her beauty seems to radiate from the frame.
I should just pitch this in the trash right now. But I don’t. I can’t just throw it away without. I flip it over. There’s writing on the other side, neatly and lovingly inscribed in cursive. I know what it says. I could recite it by heart. But I feel the need to read it one last time, as sort of a tribute.
Steven, when things are difficult, look at this photograph to remember this day, the day you made me the happiest girl alive. If you are sad, or hurt, or depressed, remember that I will always be here for you.
I love you, now and forever.
--Hannah
There’s a little mist in my eyes as I read this for what has to be the thousandth time. Never fails to get me. I loosen my grip on it, but I stop myself just before I let go. It still seems so true, so real, like the emotion is right there on the paper.
I love you, now and forever.
I take a deep breath, and put it back in my wallet. I wish I could just toss it out. But I can’t.
I sigh and walk back to my car. I pop open a beer and take a long chug before smashing the can on the dashboard and tossing it in the passenger seat, which is filled with cheap beer cans. I place the case of beer next to me in the passenger seat.
“Buckle up, sweetheart, we’re going for a ride,” I whisper.
The beer cans rattle as I drive off.
This is a nice little story. Of course the trope is not new, nor does this story add anything remarkable to it. But it’s pretty efficient in its brevity, and the awkwardness of the cashier scene is adequately conveyed. Doesn't shoot for the stars, but what it does, it does it well.
My only gripe would be its obvious sappiness. But that's a personal matter.
My only gripe would be its obvious sappiness. But that's a personal matter.
I'm with >>Monokeras on this one.
Good and solid writing but didn't engage me much, probably because of the sappiness.
Good and solid writing but didn't engage me much, probably because of the sappiness.
The writing is quite good on this one., and there's not much I can say about it. It flows well and the voice is definite enough for me to getting a feeling for the narrator even if it isn't particularly distinctive.
As for the story, we get a single scene containing a character piece. While there is no real arc, it still tells us about a facet of our narrator and how he relates to the world.
Solid, well written and, while not overly original, pleasant. Thank you for having submitted it.
As for the story, we get a single scene containing a character piece. While there is no real arc, it still tells us about a facet of our narrator and how he relates to the world.
Solid, well written and, while not overly original, pleasant. Thank you for having submitted it.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6LovY_DdEE
This is well written, but lacks one essential piece of information to bring it together: what happened to Hannah? Divorce? Relationship fell apart? Another man/woman/orange? Death in a tragic car accident that Steven is setting out to replicate? Baleful Polymorphed into a can of beer and accidentally drunk? I can't eliminate any of these possibilities, they're all within the range of other entries I've read...
Without knowing what happened, it's hard for me to understand why Steven is so torn up about it five years down the road. Is he in mourning? Feeling inadequate? Blaming himself for having done something wrong? Is his reading of the message sincere in tone, or bitterly ironic? "I'll never find someone so good again" or "such a nice fiction, yet it turned out to be lies?"
Without understanding why Steven is sad, I can't decide why I should be sad (or not!) And so the piece lacks the emotional impact it's meant to have.
Everything other than that is fantastic, good enough that this might make above average in my votes even with the crucial flaw. I feel like it isn't even meant to be ambiguous, either, but the author just barely undershot the amount of information they needed to make it all click. Still a great effort, thanks for writing!
This is well written, but lacks one essential piece of information to bring it together: what happened to Hannah? Divorce? Relationship fell apart? Another man/woman/orange? Death in a tragic car accident that Steven is setting out to replicate? Baleful Polymorphed into a can of beer and accidentally drunk? I can't eliminate any of these possibilities, they're all within the range of other entries I've read...
Without knowing what happened, it's hard for me to understand why Steven is so torn up about it five years down the road. Is he in mourning? Feeling inadequate? Blaming himself for having done something wrong? Is his reading of the message sincere in tone, or bitterly ironic? "I'll never find someone so good again" or "such a nice fiction, yet it turned out to be lies?"
Without understanding why Steven is sad, I can't decide why I should be sad (or not!) And so the piece lacks the emotional impact it's meant to have.
Everything other than that is fantastic, good enough that this might make above average in my votes even with the crucial flaw. I feel like it isn't even meant to be ambiguous, either, but the author just barely undershot the amount of information they needed to make it all click. Still a great effort, thanks for writing!
Originality--overrated. You had a simple story and you told it well. I felt the awkwardness, the bitterness, Steven's hesitation. It flowed nicely. Good work!
I also don't think the reason for the separation is important. In a longer, more complex story, yes, it would matter. Here, I don't think so. This is the story of a single moment, an awkward, sad, frustrating moment. I think most people can feel the emotion whether they the know specific reason or not because this scene depicts something we've all experienced on some level or another.
I also don't think the reason for the separation is important. In a longer, more complex story, yes, it would matter. Here, I don't think so. This is the story of a single moment, an awkward, sad, frustrating moment. I think most people can feel the emotion whether they the know specific reason or not because this scene depicts something we've all experienced on some level or another.
Personally I think that the woman somehow died in an accident, and the man is about to do the same. It puts an extra twist of the heartstrings on her message. The story being open-ending suffers in that I'll never know for sure, but benefits in that I can apply my own interpretation to it. I think the ending to this hinges on a matter of taste when it comes to deciding whether it works or not.
Overall though, I likes this. A short moment with strong emotion and realistic characters.
Overall though, I likes this. A short moment with strong emotion and realistic characters.
Decent emotive piece that I think is just short of really crushing it. A little bit of weird phrasing here and there and, since we're in the seat of the main here, I think dodging the actual reason for them being separate is a bit of a cheat? I mean, there is something to be said for allowing the reader to draw conclusions, but I feel you lost a bit of something insofar as understanding this man goes.
This is getting a bit nitpicky, but I feel the note is a little too long? This sort of thing varies tons (with one of my favorite sorts of these notes being hella long), but here... I dunno. It just doesn't quite feel snappy enough. That is very much IMO, though.
This is getting a bit nitpicky, but I feel the note is a little too long? This sort of thing varies tons (with one of my favorite sorts of these notes being hella long), but here... I dunno. It just doesn't quite feel snappy enough. That is very much IMO, though.
I liked this one a lot. I wish I had a slightly better idea of what happened to his wife; most of the story suggests a simple divorce/breakup/separation, but the drinking-and-driving might be implying something a lot darker... I'm just not quite certain it is. Still, great work overall.
You've set yourself up for one hell of sucker punch here. The guy's got a ghost riding shotgun in his back pocket, a bombshell who's absence is apparently ever present. She's your story's Big Bang. Her being gone sets all the rest in motion. And you gave her voice! You gave the dead an undead message, just one, to be delivered to your audience. And then we get
This is your once chance to give 'Hannah' character, personality. Whoever she is, she scrambled this dude's eggs so bad he can't even make a beer run without tripping over her corpse. But all we get are bunch of girlfriend cliches. 'the happiest girl alive' and 'i will always be here for you.' If you're gonna give a ghost anything, give her a flame thrower. Turn the nozzle and light up this guy's pissy attitude and awkward small talk.
Steven, when things are difficult, look at this photograph to remember this day, the day you made me the happiest girl alive. If you are sad, or hurt, or depressed, remember that I will always be here for you.
I love you, now and forever.
--Hannah
This is your once chance to give 'Hannah' character, personality. Whoever she is, she scrambled this dude's eggs so bad he can't even make a beer run without tripping over her corpse. But all we get are bunch of girlfriend cliches. 'the happiest girl alive' and 'i will always be here for you.' If you're gonna give a ghost anything, give her a flame thrower. Turn the nozzle and light up this guy's pissy attitude and awkward small talk.