Little Thoughts About Books and Stuff

  Photo copyright K.S. Brooks.  Do not use without attribution. Indies Unlimited Flash Fiction Challenge I didn't get this entry finished and while I like what I've started here, I'm stuck so if you have any imput I'm open to hear it!  * * * “I hate my job.”  He took my hand as we walked down the wet sidewalk, just the sound of my heels and the occasional car that passed by.  We turned the corner onto the busy street and merged with the flow of peditian traffic. “I used to love my job, but now I sit across a desk and deliver some of the worst news people can be getting right now.  I’m the face these people will always connect with losing their jobs. When I walk the halls, no one will meet my eyes, like I’m some sort of severance medusa and just a glance from me will mean the end of their income.” He gave my hand a gentle squeeze, this was a rant he’s heard before and no words were needed.  He knew how hard it was on me, it was harder on him, being one ...

 I was IT support for the first meeting of the library system's virtual writers group. I listened for most of the meeting but decided to participate in the writing prompt.  We had about 15 minutes to write. The prompt was to write something in the format of Joe Brainard's I Remember.  The prompt had me remembering a poem I had to write for something a creative writing class and I took the idea of that poem and expanded it: I remember our nights together; the taste of whiskey in your kisses and the smell of it on your breath.  I remember the feel of your hands and the soft curses we both spoke in the back room of the bar, in the kitchen of your apartment, or the bedroom of mine.  I remember how your kisses had the same effect as a shot of whiskey short-circuiting my brain.  I remember every whispered promise of love, marriage, and family.  I remember the night those promises stopped when I walked into the bar to see your hands on another woman.  I ...