Changes

This flash fiction is from a writing contest I entered almost a year ago.  The title had to be Changes and the first sentence was given to us.

Changes

The need for change bulldozed a road down the center of my mind.    The driver was my best friend whose green eyes were alight with righteous fire.  “Where’s my friend who’d laugh more than she cries?  Smile more than she frowns? Saw sunshine and roses everywhere to the point we wanted to choke her!”  Subtlety was a word missing from her vocabulary as she shouted “He’s not good enough for you!  He doesn’t treat you right!”  Her truth burned a hole through my ears and sent daggers into my heart.

The pain and resignation painted across my face sent her arms around me and tears flowing to match mine.  “I’m sorry but you needed to hear it.  You’re so much better than this.”  After a few moments of tears and hugs she added.  “I miss the ‘you’ from the before time.”  The part of me seeing a stranger starring out from the bathroom mirror had already begun to recognize and accept.  One of us had stepped out long ago; the rest was just familiar and comfortable and wasting time.

Panic weaves through me, racing my heart and dampening my palms.  Time to tell him it was over.   Courage, strength and the prepared speech dissolve with one look into his chocolate brown eyes.  Then he turns away, escaping into the computer screen and I remember.  I find the words and push them quickly through my teeth.  “We are over.”  The words fall gently to the ground like a trio of leaves before the storm fueled wind blows them away.  I am envious of their escape.

Angry words become a frantic melody as he struggles to hold what he does not want.  His acid words fall short and burn the ground at my feet.   He wants me to beg, he wants to say he ended it and will probably take the credit but the part of me that would have given him that much was lost.  His image morphs into an angry two year old stomping his feet and throwing a temper tantrum before trudging off to bed in defeat.  A giggle bubbles up and releases before I can stop it.

His eyes betray the relief hiding there before stomping off into the bedroom.  The slamming of drawers and doors echoes through an already empty house.   I looked up as all went quiet seeing a box smaller than a laptop.  “For someone so upset, the box should be bigger.”  I commented invoking more ire.  Welcome back, I thought to myself, I didn’t realize how much I missed you.  Six months ago, his stuff had begun to disappear.  No explanations yet no questions, it just became reality.  Jerking open the front door and slamming it into the wall, he shouted until he climbed into his truck drawing out the voyeuristic neighbors.

“You’ll be all alone.”

“I’m used to it.”

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