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A Short Story: Part One

Updated on August 15, 2016
Patrick Patrick profile image

Patrick has been working as a freelance writer for the past 3 years

My Short Novel

Found Myself Writing
Found Myself Writing | Source

The Date

A ravishing brunette in a short black dress that
clings to her curves like glove- probably in her early 20s; not so easy to tell these days- is seated next to a large crystal casement window.
It’s about half past seven PM. On her left hand is a red lipstick-stained Bordeaux glass of some sort of expensive red wine which she sips sublimely, on what is probably a date with a strikingly handsome gentleman seated opposite.
She looks adequately prepared for this date- the
stunning turquoise statement necklace which is well highlighted by her low neck dress makes it apparent.
Her body language is composed and alert, her right
hand is on the brown mahogany table and she
occasionally fondles his left hand with her fingers,
seemingly unconsciously expressing her affection for
She can't take her eyes off him. He has won all her
attention as he continually articulates what could only be assumed to be awfully intriguing to her- a captivating story or perhaps one of Shakespeare’s heart-felt sonnets.
She is lost in his eyes and barely gets time to sip the
wine, which appears to have been forgotten altogether.
The lad with an outstanding dental set is casually
groomed in what was then considered to be a modern trend- black fitting pants, an ivory-white fitting blazer with a black and a white linear print shirt underneath –Monochrome they called it.

He maintains absolute eye contact with her. He has
her smitten, and she knows it. That is probably why he is as composed as he appears to be- almost corky.
They look happy, making it all seem too easy and
effortless–`Perhaps only for this night and this very moment‟. Karen sarcastically whispers to herself as she stares at the lovely-looking couple sitting a few tables away from her.
She is for a moment lost in her thoughts, and almost
forgets about the man sitting right opposite. Prick…
Jeremy, a cheesy-looking fellow dressed in heather
grey khaki pants and his favorite over-worn polyester shirt and brown leather shoes idly sits there, his eyes momentarily directed to a cup of coffee placed on the brown mahogany table which they occupy.
He is tactfully tapping it in tune with his straggling
thoughts trying to figure out how that evening had
turned out to be such a mess.
Now she’s pissed, why did I even do that?
She shifts back her attention to him and crossly
stares at his blunt face which is almost annoying.
It was a high end bistro in the soul of the city so he
really couldn’t afford to be a regular there, that’s
probably why they ordered the cheapest meals on the menu.
The white-collared folk with their fancy Amani suits
would impress their women by bringing them here but Jeremy, an ordinary slightly above minimum-wage serf, was taking a long shot by making his debut.
It was superbly contrived with interior décor that
exuded class. The entire staff was staggeringly polite; they generously gave pleasant smiles with every word they spoke like they’d been programmed-a little disturbing.
The lighting was exquisite and the walls were
beautifully painted with warm colors schemes, raisin and shell pink which made it feel like a secondary home.
They had carefully and well-designed patterns with
precious works of art that would not by any means be
considered mundane. They also had striking ceramic
sculptures and stunning chandeliers at every corner
which enlivened the space. The entire place really gave all those who came in to eat an idea or two about home decor.
The food too was amazing. They served exotic
meals from all over the world; Thai shrimps, curry codfish
and other delicacies that were just a taste bud delight.

This night was extra special; Jeremy felt that saving
some cash to take his girlfriend out for a proper dinner
was worth the trouble; she was worth every trouble.
You see the two had been dating for while, a little
over a year. They loved each other- that was never a
matter of contention.
With the circumstances broiling around their
forbidden romance, they should have parted ways a long time ago, but as much as they both expected that to have happened, it never quite did.
Fear though troubled them, they felt it crippling in,
but neither was ever willing to admit it, not with words anyway.
Instead they argued about trivial things, about little
unimportant matters that never really had any compelling case or genesis.

She then grabs her little iPod, her little phone, stands up and gently pulls her sit behind and walks out of the bistro- signature grand exit.
He remains seated, barely looking at her leave, bereft of any word to say.
He gives even lesser attention to the people around
him, who are now staring and whispering about the
small argument they just had before she stormed out.
He then takes the cup of coffee that has already
gotten cold, and takes a morsel sip calculating his next move.
Damn it…
He barely takes the next sip when she scuttles back
in and stands next to him folding her hands to her chest expectantly with an adorable pout on her face that made her look less threatening than she intended- once again the people around turn their attention back to this seemingly dysfunctional couple.
Aware of her familiar frame, he lifts his countenance
towards hers, gets up from his chair in pin-drop silence,
picks up a painting that he had had placed against the wall and they both leave after he pays for the coffee and the simple meal they took.
Neither say a word to the other as they walk out and
in to a dimly lit alley.


Just had some ideas and the next thing I was on my computer writing them down. I am not sure if it's any good, but had to give a try right? No? Aww, come- on. Anyways, I loved the feel I got from writing this, so love it- Love it now :)

Just messing around,

Let me know what you think about it

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