Departure - Filtered
I open the door, the jangle of the bell irritates me, my nerves on edge as Laura walks past me, her perfume reminds me of the many times I have smelled that, behind her, holding her close, breathing in the complex aroma from her neck, her hair. Her beautiful face, her sparkling eyes, a sweet smile on her lips. My resolve almost breaks, but this must be done.
We walk up the counter together and order our coffee, and head to a table for two in a quiet corner. I purposely choose this table as I want no others near when I tell her what I must. I sense her attention on me, but I cannot bear to look at her; what I must say is too painful. I believe she senses something is amiss.
The waitress arrives with our coffee; before she sets the cups down I smell that it isn't fresh, the aroma slightly burned, and bitter. I say “Please bring us a fresh pot. ” to postpone the inevitable, but Laura thanks the waitress and adds cream and sugar to her cup.
She picks up her cup; her hand is shaking, the cup trembling, little waves and ripples forming on the surface. She sips carefully, and sets the cup back on the table.
I stare into my cup, the dark black surface reminds me of the congealed blood on the floor. Only a few hours earlier I went to my brother's apartment. Ron had not answered his phone all day, and he had not been to our restaurant the day before. I was so worried about him, that he might be sick. The door to his place was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open, I sensed something was not right the minute I did.
Furniture was upended, drawers dumped on the floor, signs of a struggle evident throughout. I carefully walked down the hall to his bedroom. Ron is sprawled out on the floor, eyes open, lifeless, a pool of blood surrounding him, dark, viscous, a copper tasting smell to it. I went to check for a pulse, but I knew that was a waste of time before I even touched his neck.
It only took me a moment to realize who must have done this. Ron managed the restaurant; I was just his financial partner. He had big dreams, big plans. When I told him I couldn't afford to invest any more, he found a new source of money, one he was not prepared to discuss with me. Soon new clients began to hang out in the restaurant. Tough guys; they came right out of “The Sopranos” or some gangster movie. I argued many times with Ron about my concerns, but ever the optimist he assured me "I can pay the loan back, no problem. Stop worrying."
Then the factory shut down. Hundreds of people were forced out of work. Families struggling to keep their children fed were not going out to restaurants. Our restaurant was empty many nights. I stopped by one evening to discuss this with Ron, I located him in the back, in a heated discussion with one of the unsavory characters. As soon as I entered, they stopped talking.
This all went through my mind in an instant, as I look at her, I want so much to explain what has happened but I can't. I must protect her. All I am able to say was "I'm leaving." My voice is so calm, I cannot believe this is all I can utter, after all we shared together, a life so full of happiness and joy.
Her eyes fill with tears, her lips tremble, that is always the hardest for me, when she was sad or upset, That quiver would break my heart when she was in pain. Her eyes fix on the tabletop, her fingers trace the pattern of scratches in the old, worn surface. Laura blinks; tries to not break down in front of me. Her mouth opens, but no words came out.
Things had been less than perfect between us these past four months, I was fixated on Ron, and the situation his ambition had put him in. We were at risk of losing the restaurant. I had no job. I was broke, and there was no prospect of that changing anytime soon. She wanted a future together, I had no future to offer her.
I see her swallow, and in a soft, weak voice, a quaver in it, she says "Don’t."
I want to grab her in my arms, hold her, tell her I would stay with her forever, but I know that Ron's new business associates will be looking for their money to be returned, and they knew I backed him before. I had nothing left; everything I owned was invested in the restaurant. My supervisor job at the factory disappeared along with all the all other jobs when it closed. I had to leave town and disappear otherwise they would kill me the same as they killed Ron when they found I could not pay them.
I cannot tell Laura any of this; it will only endanger her. She must not know any of my plans.
A single tear rolls down her cheek, and drops into her cup, a single bitter tear, in a bitter brew.
I rise from the chair; place some money on the table to pay for our last coffee together. Her gaze turns up towards me standing there, I can see pleading in her eyes, I want so much for her to disappear with me, but I know that will only put her in the same danger I am in.
I want to say so much, to tell her I have to leave her because I love her, but all I can manage is "Take care of yourself." I head for the door, before I open it I take one last look back at her. I see her head is slumped forward. Her hair has fallen down around her face. Her shoulders shake with sobs, silent, broken.
I want to say "I love you. Goodbye." one last time, but I remain silent. I walk to my car, unsure where to go, where to hide.
© 2015 NoelHC
Departure - Original to compare
I open the door, the jangle of the bell irritates me, my nerves on edge as Laura walks past me, my nose senses her perfume, and the scent takes me back to the many times I have smelled that, behind her, holding her close, breathing in the complex aroma from her neck, her hair. She looks at me, a sweet smile on her lips. My resolve almost breaks, but this must be done.
We walk up the counter together and order our coffees, and head to a table for two in a quiet corner. I purposely choose this table as I do not want to have others near when I tell her what I must. I can sense her looking at me, but I cannot meet her gaze, what I have to say is too painful. I think she senses something is amiss.
The waitress arrives with our coffees; I can smell even before she sets the cups down that it isn't fresh, the aromas lightly burned, bitter. I start to ask for fresh coffee to postpone the inevitable, but Laura thanks the waitress and begins to add cream and sugar to her cup.
She picks up the cup; I can see her hand is shaking, the cup trembling, little waves and ripples forming on the surface. She takes a sip, and sets the cup back on the table.
I stare into my cup, the dark black surface reminding me of the congealed blood on the floor. Only a few hours earlier I went to my brother's apartment. Ron had not answered his phone all day, and he had not been to our restaurant the day before. I was worried about him, that he might be sick. The door to his place was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open, I could see that something was not right the minute I did.
Furniture was upended, drawers dumped on the floor, signs of a struggle evident throughout. I carefully walk down the hall to his bedroom. I see him lying on the floor, eyes open, lifeless, a pool of blood surrounding him, dark, viscous, congealed. I went to check for a pulse, but I knew that was a waste of time before I even touched his neck.
It only took me a moment to realize who must have done this. Ron ran the restaurant; I was just his financial partner. He had big dreams, big plans. When I told him I couldn't afford to invest any more, he found a new source of money, one he wasn't willing to discuss with me. Soon new clients began to hang out in the restaurant. looking like they came right out of The Soprano's or a gangster movie. I spoke with Ron about my concerns, but ever the optimist he assured me he could pay the loan back, no problem.
Then the factory shut down. Hundreds of people were thrown out of work. Families struggling to keep their children fed were not going out to restaurants. Our restaurant was empty many nights. Stopping by one evening to talk with Ron, I saw him in the back, in a heated discussion with one of the unsavory characters. As soon as they saw me walk in, they stopped.
This all went through my mind in an instant, as I look up at her, I want so much to explain what has happened but I can't. I have to protect her. All I am able to say was "I'm leaving." My voice is so calm, I cannot believe this is all I can utter, after all we shared together, a life so full of happiness and joy.
Her eyes fill with tears, I see her lips trembling, that has always been the hardest on me, when she was sad or upset, I would see that, it would break my heart that she was in pain. She looks down at the table, her fingers tracing the pattern of scratches in the old, worn surface. I see her blink; trying to not break down in front of me. Her mouth opens, but no words came out.
I know things had been less than perfect between us these past four months, but all I seemed to be able to think of was Ron, and the situation his ambition had put him in. We were in danger of losing the restaurant. I had no job. I was broke, and there was no prospect of that changing anytime soon.
I see her swallow, and in a soft, weak voice, a quaver in it, she says "Don’t"
I want to grab her in my arms, hold her, tell her I would stay with her forever, but I know that Ron's new business associates will be looking for their money to be returned, and they knew I backed him before. I had nothing left; everything I owned was tied up in the restaurant. My job managing the factory disappeared along with all the all others when it closed. I had to get out of town, and disappear as they would kill me as well when they found I could not pay.
I cannot tell Laura any of this; I have to keep her out of danger. I can say nothing of my plans. I watch as a single tear rolls down her cheek, and drops into her cup, a single bitter tear, in a bitter brew.
I rise from the chair; place some money on the table to pay for our final coffee together. She looks up at me, I can see pleading in her eyes, I want her to disappear with me, but I know that will only put her in the same danger.
I want to say so much, to tell her I have to leave her because I love her, but all I can manage is "Take care of yourself." I head to the door, and turn to take one last look at her. I see her head slumped forward, her hair fallen down around her face. Her shoulders shake with sobs, silent, broken.
I try to speak one last time, but I can't. I only think "I love you. Goodbye."
I walk to my car, trying to decide where to go, where to hide.
We walk up the counter together and order our coffees, and head to a table for two in a quiet corner. I purposely choose this table as I do not want to have others near when I tell her what I must. I can sense her looking at me, but I cannot meet her gaze, what I have to say is too painful. I think she senses something is amiss.
The waitress arrives with our coffees; I can smell even before she sets the cups down that it isn't fresh, the aromas lightly burned, bitter. I start to ask for fresh coffee to postpone the inevitable, but Laura thanks the waitress and begins to add cream and sugar to her cup.
She picks up the cup; I can see her hand is shaking, the cup trembling, little waves and ripples forming on the surface. She takes a sip, and sets the cup back on the table.
I stare into my cup, the dark black surface reminding me of the congealed blood on the floor. Only a few hours earlier I went to my brother's apartment. Ron had not answered his phone all day, and he had not been to our restaurant the day before. I was worried about him, that he might be sick. The door to his place was slightly ajar, and I pushed it open, I could see that something was not right the minute I did.
Furniture was upended, drawers dumped on the floor, signs of a struggle evident throughout. I carefully walk down the hall to his bedroom. I see him lying on the floor, eyes open, lifeless, a pool of blood surrounding him, dark, viscous, congealed. I went to check for a pulse, but I knew that was a waste of time before I even touched his neck.
It only took me a moment to realize who must have done this. Ron ran the restaurant; I was just his financial partner. He had big dreams, big plans. When I told him I couldn't afford to invest any more, he found a new source of money, one he wasn't willing to discuss with me. Soon new clients began to hang out in the restaurant. looking like they came right out of The Soprano's or a gangster movie. I spoke with Ron about my concerns, but ever the optimist he assured me he could pay the loan back, no problem.
Then the factory shut down. Hundreds of people were thrown out of work. Families struggling to keep their children fed were not going out to restaurants. Our restaurant was empty many nights. Stopping by one evening to talk with Ron, I saw him in the back, in a heated discussion with one of the unsavory characters. As soon as they saw me walk in, they stopped.
This all went through my mind in an instant, as I look up at her, I want so much to explain what has happened but I can't. I have to protect her. All I am able to say was "I'm leaving." My voice is so calm, I cannot believe this is all I can utter, after all we shared together, a life so full of happiness and joy.
Her eyes fill with tears, I see her lips trembling, that has always been the hardest on me, when she was sad or upset, I would see that, it would break my heart that she was in pain. She looks down at the table, her fingers tracing the pattern of scratches in the old, worn surface. I see her blink; trying to not break down in front of me. Her mouth opens, but no words came out.
I know things had been less than perfect between us these past four months, but all I seemed to be able to think of was Ron, and the situation his ambition had put him in. We were in danger of losing the restaurant. I had no job. I was broke, and there was no prospect of that changing anytime soon.
I see her swallow, and in a soft, weak voice, a quaver in it, she says "Don’t"
I want to grab her in my arms, hold her, tell her I would stay with her forever, but I know that Ron's new business associates will be looking for their money to be returned, and they knew I backed him before. I had nothing left; everything I owned was tied up in the restaurant. My job managing the factory disappeared along with all the all others when it closed. I had to get out of town, and disappear as they would kill me as well when they found I could not pay.
I cannot tell Laura any of this; I have to keep her out of danger. I can say nothing of my plans. I watch as a single tear rolls down her cheek, and drops into her cup, a single bitter tear, in a bitter brew.
I rise from the chair; place some money on the table to pay for our final coffee together. She looks up at me, I can see pleading in her eyes, I want her to disappear with me, but I know that will only put her in the same danger.
I want to say so much, to tell her I have to leave her because I love her, but all I can manage is "Take care of yourself." I head to the door, and turn to take one last look at her. I see her head slumped forward, her hair fallen down around her face. Her shoulders shake with sobs, silent, broken.
I try to speak one last time, but I can't. I only think "I love you. Goodbye."
I walk to my car, trying to decide where to go, where to hide.
© 2015 NoelHC
Note: This piece was written as a response, from the man's point of view of a short story written by a great Texas writer Kate Greene. She closed her account and I no longer have a copy of her far better original story.
http://infamous-scribbler.com/blog/2015/03/20/write-fridays-exercise-6-revision/
Exercise 7: Choose an excerpt from a work in progress. This can be a first chapter, or a few thousand words. With your list of filter words by your side, read carefully. Anytime you come across a scene described with one of them, i.e. she saw the dragon leap into the air, replace it with a more direct observation. The dragon leapt into the air, a swirling gossamer of metallic scales catching the sun. Alternatively, you can pick one filter word and do a CTRL+F to find it everywhere in your document. This is especially helpful if you realize that you favor one or two filter words above all the others (I’m particularly fond of s/he felt…)
For more about filter words, read http://writeitsideways.com/are-these-filter-words-weakening-your-fiction/
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