My wrists are killing me.
So my fingers will quickly limp through a category 3 short story (short-short-short-story).
I'd like to thank the lovely and talented Marieta Tsenova for providing me with this photo.
He waits five heart beats for her to say something and then he dives into his excuse:
It was one of those days when I had all these songs in my head but they were all being sung by Johnny Cash. You know, like that album of his with all the covers. Like that but with other songs. "I'm a virgin" by Madonna," "We've Got the Beat" by the Go Gos, "Straight outa Compton" by NWA. You know anything but done by the Man in Black.
You know, one of those days. One of those days that come like one in a million years.
I guess that's why I was distracted and I forgot about our anniversary.
You know things get into your head and they push other things out. Important things.
He turns to look to the empty pillow. He imagines the angle at which she'll be looking at him.
The pillow is silent.
When she gets home he'll be ready.