Skip to main content

black out

Pitch black.  As if it wasn't hard enough to find the exact olives he likes with the grocery fully lit.  She could hear the grumbling of the other customers, most of whom seemed caught off-guard by the impromptu darkness of the store.  Why they were surprised she didn't know.  The storm outside was a menacing one, threatening the power lines for the better part of the day. 

Had she taken the extra ten minutes to go to the big grocery across town she would probably be basking in the borrowed light of backup generators.  Not here though.  But no matter, she didn't mind.  Kind of liked it actually.  It was like an adventure, and a welcome one at that. 

Her list was an odd one, the product of haste and intertwining lives.  Toilet paper - already in the basket.  Hot sauce, vegetable oil, dog biscuits, cheddar cheese - New York Sharp, beer, canned pears, and bread.  Standing in the cereal aisle (for no apparent reason) she wondered what someone would conclude about her life based on this list.  Nothing good, she realized.  Perhaps if she had more fruits and vegetables, would that elicit a more favorable opinion?  More respect, perhaps? 

The olives, though.  She almost forgot about the olives.  That made her interesting (well, it made him interesting, but nevermind that)!  Olives stuffed with jalapenos and blue cheese.  Jalapenos and blue cheese, IN an olive!  That's interesting!  What an interesting person that must be to put that on the list.  Truth was, she didn't much care for them, but she was thankful for the exotic flair they gave to her otherwise mundane list of items. 

She made her way up to the front, fumbling in her purse for the cash.  After completing her grocery shopping, in the dark, in almost record time (those damn, exotic olives were always so hard to find!), of course it would take 15 minutes to find her money in the bottom of the purse. 

The rain had stopped, leaving the city with the wet, fresh smell of spring.  Inspired by the sudden adventure of her trip, and embracing her obviously exotic life ("Did you see those olives she put in her basket?!  She must be a very interesting person.") she let her usual bus pass, electing instead to walk the 8 blocks back to her apartment.

Comments

  1. I want to read more about this story. So...Yay for you! I am convinced that she is with a terrible man who will beat her if she brings the wrong olives home. Great start to your fiction adventures. :)

    ReplyDelete
  2. I want to know what happens on her way home. A lot can occur during an 8 block walk in a rougher side of town during the eye of a storm.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Good start on your Fiction Friday!!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

stuck

I've been getting some complaints about the infrequency of my writing.  And let's not kid ourselves, I love that people (okay, one person) care enough to pester me with texts (okay, one text) about my blogging.  Here's the problem.  I don't do much.  I mean, anything.  Life is kind of depressing right now and I've not been so much in the creative mood lately.  But, I want to honor you, my readers, all the same.  So you get a treat today.  Writing that I didn't do.  I've been feeling really nostalgic and a little down watching everyone head back to school this month.  Nelson has been busy with orientation activities all week and a lot of backpacks and bicycles have been passing by our window.  I felt this way last year too as I watched all of my friends talk about their new classes and professors.  Apparently, this nostalgia and minor depression isn't going to go away as long as I'm not in school.  Okay e...

the first three days

Listen up. I'm about to make another public blog commitment that will most likely meet the same fate as fiction fridays. Drum roll please.   I've decided to be intentional about experiencing fall. I love fall. It always seems to move faster than the other seasons, and I usually end up missing it. For someone who's spent 21 of the last 28 falls going back to school, it has become a season of excitement and beginnings and backpacks. And pumpkins. And scary movies. And seasonal beers. And blankets, and football games, and soups and crunchy leaves and boot socks (for at least one more season). And so begins my commitment. Every day of October, and there's 31 of them, I will engage in an intentional celebration and acknowledgment of fall. I'm already three days behind. Which technically could be fall-ish, because that's kind of school-ish, which I've already stated is fall-ish. But that's lame. Here are the first three days. 1. Fall is football sea...

resurrection

It's been 3 years since I've been here. If the virtual world collected dust, I imagine I'd need a broom for this space. I've thought about coming back often. With witty follow ups and gentle reproofs to my readers for not worrying more as to my fate following my hot yoga class. I really loved blogging. And I wanted to come back. But before I knew it, it had been a couple months - and I drifted away; like a relationship that ends without an actual break-up. And then it had been a year - and I felt like I'd failed. And then two passed - and I thought there's no way I can come back from that gracefully. And then it had been three - and I thought...maybe. And then it had been three years and one week - and the ashes had cooled enough to rise from them. Resurrection is a heady word. One that necessitates some sort of death. And so I choose caution. And excuses. And fear. I choose worrying about the judgement of others, and especially of myself. These are the thin...