She passed him everyday. He had exactly what she wanted.
Anne had long felt a hollowness inside her; it had been growing for many months now until she almost felt that the core of nothingness had taken up nearly all of her being. She felt too light: light enough to float away. She had begun to think more about things too. What did she really want? Did this new path she was taking really fulfil her? Was it going to take away the feelings of self-loathing that she had been living with for so long and re-ignite the exhuberence of her youth?
The determination that she had had at the beginning of the new epocha that she had envisaged for herself, and was trying to implement, had slowly started to seep away like a leaking pipe. She had felt herself faltering many times only to catch a brief snap-shot of herself in the mirror and, with the stark reminder of the disgust with which she held herself, she had managed to crawl through those times when she felt like breaking the promise she had made to herself.
Now, however, watching him, she stopped and boldly peered at him through the glass. Would he notice her? Would he be as disgusted with her as she was of herself? Frankly, she no longer cared, her desire had reached such a pitch that her mind screamed her greatest need. She pushed through the door screening him from her and holding his face in her gaze she marched up to the counter. "How much for that Raspberry Mille Feuille?" she purred.
Time up.
Inspiration:
The Write Practice suggestion tonight was: Take fifteen minutes and come up with a MacGuffin scenario. You can either make your characters play the MacGuffin straight, or turn it on its head and have them start questioning what the significance of the MacGuffin is.
I chose the former without exactly playing it straight.
Anne had long felt a hollowness inside her; it had been growing for many months now until she almost felt that the core of nothingness had taken up nearly all of her being. She felt too light: light enough to float away. She had begun to think more about things too. What did she really want? Did this new path she was taking really fulfil her? Was it going to take away the feelings of self-loathing that she had been living with for so long and re-ignite the exhuberence of her youth?
The determination that she had had at the beginning of the new epocha that she had envisaged for herself, and was trying to implement, had slowly started to seep away like a leaking pipe. She had felt herself faltering many times only to catch a brief snap-shot of herself in the mirror and, with the stark reminder of the disgust with which she held herself, she had managed to crawl through those times when she felt like breaking the promise she had made to herself.
Now, however, watching him, she stopped and boldly peered at him through the glass. Would he notice her? Would he be as disgusted with her as she was of herself? Frankly, she no longer cared, her desire had reached such a pitch that her mind screamed her greatest need. She pushed through the door screening him from her and holding his face in her gaze she marched up to the counter. "How much for that Raspberry Mille Feuille?" she purred.
Time up.
Inspiration:
The Write Practice suggestion tonight was: Take fifteen minutes and come up with a MacGuffin scenario. You can either make your characters play the MacGuffin straight, or turn it on its head and have them start questioning what the significance of the MacGuffin is.
I chose the former without exactly playing it straight.
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I would really welcome constructive comments or perhaps even some inspiration. To be honest , I would settle for some encouragement.