This post is in response to my friend's Trifecta Writing Challenge. This week's word is "cutting"...
She smiled as she talked to the food on her plate, her ennui growing increasingly more oppressive. The sex had come to a standstill and the conversation hadn't taken long to follow. What she didn't know was why. What he didn't know was that she didn't care anymore. Their last discussion brought her to her knees once in pleading tears and again in supposed remedy. And for two weeks they had managed to cordially invite one another to witness their definition of living. But tonight the bitter taste of truth felt shoveled farther down her throat than a forkful of duck a l'orange.
Her utensils clinked a lonely melody as she meticulously crossed them over her plate. She released an audible sigh and stared at the top of his bowed head until even he couldn't ignore the weight of her stare. But his eyes glanced up only momentarily. It was that familiar, cutting glare that still successfully intimidated her. So she swallowed her bravery once again, and instead set about washing their plates.
"Her utensils clinked a lonely melody as she meticulously crossed them over her plate. She released an audible sigh and stared at the top of his bowed head until even he couldn't ignore the weight of her stare." I particularly like this snapshot in your story. It's very dense there, great description of the tension and awkwardness. Well done!
ReplyDeleteGreat to have you back. This is a super piece and was the standout one for us this week. You write beautifully and the tension across the table was palpable. Hope you'll be back again next week.
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