I wrote the story almost all in one sitting, in San Francisco, in a Greek restaurant I'd gone into looking for gyros. As it happened, they had a very tasty pomegranate-marinated chicken dish that I ordered instead. I was so involved in the story that I missed the belly dancer.
As is often the case with my stories, I started with a character; in one version of the second scene which I rejected completely, she had a name, even. And a prop, in this case, the dress. And, since this was about sex, a partner.
Now I've observed such a dress in the wild (as it were), and it made a lasting impression on me. The owner, whom I met while she was wearing it, explained that it was laundry day and she wouldn't otherwise be wearing such a thing. Real life went another direction, but we did kind of make googley eyes at each other for a while.
So I was wondering what it's like, looking back on a long relationship, when the end of things comes; moving out of the house you've shared for years, for example. Some things have been lost, to be sure, like eyesight, but many other things remain.
So an interruption to comment on the mini-reviews:
- toxicfur: This is a sad story, all the more so for the ending. It also strikes me as a little disturbing, this moment at the end of a life.
Yes, it is sad in some ways, and yet... I tried to keep it kind of upbeat and hopeful.
- fleece: - I don't really get it but maybe that's just me. in fact this is the third story i don't really get, so i'm sure it's just me today. the writing style is okay though
I'm not sure there was anything there to "get" as such. I tried to avoid making a point. To that end I replaced my original meditation on the clumsiness of the first time being a good reason not to stray with the extant ending.
- 2 plus 3 equals 5: I shouldn't like this, but I do. Okay, there's no reason I shouldn't like this except for the death bit. Well, okay, that's the whole point of the story, so I guess I like it. Creative ambiguity through it, without tripping the WTF? meter.
Um, thanks, I think. I'm not sure entirely where the death came from. The dress was going (gently) on the discard pile, that much I knew; seems she needed to be done with it for that to happen. And perhaps it was time, anyway, for the male lead (who also had a name in that rejected other scene). Dunno what it says about me that I started out writing about sex and ended up with death.
- persimmon: A spare history, but more fleshed out than the grocery list. I liked the ending, although I think I may have read part of this before. Voted.
Thanks for the vote. And you're right, in some ways; I do tend to keep writing the same story, give or take some details. But look, mom, (almost) no lesbians!
- Kellnerin: A touching story (no pun intended).
Aww, thanks. :-)
- Skrymarch: works.
Short, sweet, to the point. Glad you thought so.
So there you have it. A cautionary tale, if you will, about the unintended consequences of deviating from a prescribed pattern. As John Lennon put it, Life is what happens while you're making other plans.
Anyway, thanks to the seven people who liked this enough to vote for it. And I'm looking forward to whatever the Kellnerin and persimmon collaboration comes up with for next time.
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