Writing Exercise: 1/18/14

My other stories have been slow in coming. I need to reorganize some things in my life inside my head.

I got practically nothing written this week, but this morning I woke up with a vignette in my head begging to be written. It’s not going to develop into anything more, but it was a nice writing exercise. Of course, one day I’m going to go back and look at all these short pieces and roll my eyes at them and want to fix them up. Also, I need to do more exercises that push my skills, but that’s another story.

This one is just about heartbreak….I guess.

Oh, college life.

I crouched by my bag in front of my dorm room door and searched the pouch where I remembered leaving my key before going to class. Nothing. The sounds of Soul Caliber drifted through the crappy door, and then my roommate, Harry. “So how do you put up with fucking him?”
Will snorted. “What does that mean?”
“I’m just saying. What’s it like?”
“Why, you want to fuck my boyfriend?”
“Um, no.” Even through the door, I could hear the curl of disgust. “Just wondering. He’s so lanky and boney.”
“Well, yeah.” A pause, followed by the curses of one player getting several combo attacks on another. A soft chuckled. “It is kind of like fucking Jack Skellington.”
I stood on shaking legs and stared at the door. But the voices still came.
“He’s aptly name then, huh?”
Will laughed and the curl of unease froze in my gut. “Shit, how did I never think of that before?”
“Obviously because you were so in love.” The eye roll was clear through wood and cement.
“Obviously.” Another snort of laughter from Will.
I shoved my hands in my pocket and curled my fingers around the keys there. Oh, hey, found my keys.
The clatter of controllers hitting the hard floors barely registered. The sound of tussling was not that abnormal, so I slid the key in the lock, thinking I’d call them on talking shit about me behind my back.
Then a groan. Not a ‘that hurt’ groan. Not a ‘don’t hit me there’ groan. But a ‘oh yes, again please’ groan.
I turned the lock and twisted the knob. Pushed open the door.
And yes, my roommate was lying on top of my boyfriend, one hand between them at their crotches, my boyfriend’s legs wrapped around his waist. Harry did something and Will did that groan again, his hips arching up into the touch.
I swallowed down the bile of betrayal, grabbed the doorknob, and slammed the door shut. It was only a moment more to reclaim the key, put my school bag in order, and walk–quickly–down the hall.
Looked like I needed a new boyfriend.
And a new roommate.


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