Here’s the beginning of a story I wrote a while ago. I just submitted it to Glimmer Train Stories. Feel free to comment.

He opened the door and she was standing there with her hand held up in mid-knock. She looked ridiculous in her big cut-off jeans and her dirty, faded tank top. The pink flip-flops completed the look. Maybe that had always been her look. Her eyes were tired. He realized he’d never seen her before without Billy.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

He stood out of the way and she shuffled into the apartment. It was sparsely furnished, but it had recently begun to take on some life, as he had himself. He had some furniture now, a couple of pictures on the white plaster walls and even a lava lamp on the countertop that sometimes reminded him of times with Billy.

He looked her over carefully as she plopped down on the sofa. She smelled like cigarettes and incense and everything about her seemed used and worn. Had she always looked like this? Funny how he struggled to remember after trying so hard to forget.

Technorati Tags: writing fiction