I watched as a row of blue bubbles burst and felt the rush of excitement surge through me. I might win this level. I’d been playing it for three days now. I’d refused to pay for any upgrades in the game and decided I would only rely on my skillset. Focusing, aiming, and firing, I let out a small squeak, a stacked row of red bubbles bust, almost putting me at the top. I looked around my quiet apartment for acknowledgment and was soon disappointed when I realized my cat was highly uninterested in what I was doing. I frowned and continued to play. I only needed two yellow bubbles to burst, and I’d have it. Observing what I had left, I took a leap of faith by bouncing my last shot off one of the bubble boundary walls. “Woohoo!” I shouted as I stood up to cheer, throwing my phone to the couch. Now, that caught Henry’s attention.
“I won, Henry! On to the next level we go,” I said, smiling. He stared back at me. Irritated that I would dare interrupt his window-looking time. I rolled my eyes and sat back down. I stared ahead. It was so quiet in my apartment that it was slightly disturbing. I didn’t want the television on. The noise just seemed to rattle me. I didn’t mind the noises of the street below. It was nice to know other people were living their lives. I could feel eyes on me. I broke my stare into the wall and turned to see Henry had finally looked my way.
“Henry!” I shouted. He didn’t like that and retreated to his post overlooking the street below. I looked at the clock. It just struck three forty-five. I took a deep breath. I couldn’t go to sleep. Tomorrow would come if I went to sleep, and I didn’t want tomorrow to come. I slumped back into the couch. I wasn’t even the slightest bit tired. I was wide awake, but my body felt like a pancake on a skillet for far too long. My sweet fluffy core was beginning to grow stiff and discolored. I shouldn’t have agreed to anything.
I stood straight up, keeping my eyes locked on the wall ahead.
Maybe I could flee? I raced to my bedroom, grabbing the laptop off my bed. Quickly carrying it back to the couch, settling in. I pulled up google and typed, “how to disappear?” The first article is about how to disappear completely and never be found. Hmmm, I thought, rubbing my forearm and leaning back. I clicked it. Number one is to pick a day and plan ahead. Well, that’s out of the question. I’ve lost any planning time. Damn it. Okay, okay, let me scroll through a few steps. Step six, change your name by law. By-law? I liked my name, and now that I think about it, I don’t want to make a whole new identity for myself. Figuring out who I was in this life was hard enough. I blew through my tightly pursed lips, rattling them and catching Henry’s attention. Oh, yea, and Henry. I couldn’t leave Henry, and he doesn’t travel well.
I sat there staring at the blinking cursor. I didn’t know what to search for. Ugh, this was awful. I should’ve kept my mouth shut. I looked at the suit I had hanging in the bathroom doorway. It was lovely—a caramel color with a cream blouse underneath. Since I could not close my eyes, I steamed my outfit for court tomorrow. Ugh, court tomorrow. I rubbed my eyes, thinking it would help the stale, dry feeling. It didn’t. I thought about Michael. At least I was in my apartment. I slid the laptop off my lap, threw my head back against the couch, and stared at the ceiling. He was so handsome. Well, he is still attractive, just in a holding cell. Maybe he’d get off? I doubt it, but maybe. I was unsure how none of his cronies had shown up at my apartment yet. I’m sure the police car parked outside is helping. It was still there, wasn’t it?
I stood up and walked over to the window where Henry was sitting, shuffling him to the side. It was there. I took a deep breath. Had I made a mistake? I thought about the first knock at my door and all the police and people that stormed in asking so many questions. Michael warned me that would happen, and I claimed I was prepared. I wasn’t. Ugh, Michael. He was so different when we first met.
On a Saturday, I walked into the autobody shop not far from my apartment for new windshield wipers. I didn’t use my car much in the city and suddenly realized I hadn’t replaced the wipers for at least two years. I was thinking about driving into the countryside that day, and it was raining. I perused the aisles locating the wipers I needed, and I looked up to see Michael standing beside me. “Hi,” he chirped. I wasn’t in the best mood, so I smiled, nodded, and pushed passed him toward the counter. I rang out and headed back to the street. I was startled when he was beside me at the light, waiting to cross the street. It irritated me. I unknowingly furrowed my brow at him and turned back straight ahead.
“I’m not following you,” he said, “I just happen to be going this way.”
I nodded again, not answering. I truly wanted nothing to do with him until we continued the same path to the garage where my car had been parked. Before entering, I stopped to look at him.
“I swear,” he said, holding his hand up, “my car is in here.”
The oddness of the whole situation caused me to smile, “what floor?” I said to him.
“The sixth,” he said.
I was taken back. The sixth floor was a locked floor. It had expensive cars, I’ve heard. So, my interest spiked. “The sixth?” I questioned.
He smirked at my hesitancy and held out his hand, “Michael,” he said.
“Mira,” I said, loosely shaking his hand.
“What are you doing today?” He said.
I furrowed my brow again at him and took a step back. We had only just met.
“Look,” he interrupted, “fate may have crossed our paths. I’m headed to a winery out in the country to review. It’s not far, like not secluded or anything. Come with me?”
I was not the type of person to join impromptu plans with someone I’d just met, but my day had been awful, and he was very handsome, and I felt like maybe I had been caught in my very own hallmark moment. I stood there contemplating, processing the invitation.
“Okay,” I said, “why not?” I’ll never forget the smile back he gave me. It turned my soul into molten lava, and I knew it was the beginning of my end.
I let out a huge sigh as I stared at the police car parked below my window. I just needed to stick with my original plan. The sun began to peek above the buildings, and I could feel the clock glaring at me. The hearing was to start at 7:00 AM sharp. I was told to be at the entrance at 6:30 to meet the officer that would walk me in. I walked over to the couch, picking up my phone. It was 5:55 AM. My heart flickered in panic.
“It’s fine,” I said, looking at Henry. He meowed, irritated. I knew why. He was hungry. I pulled my shoulders in, cracking my back, went into the kitchen, and prepared Henry’s breakfast. I couldn’t eat anything right now. My stomach was in knots. The building I needed to be at wasn’t far. I showered, did my hair and makeup to the best of my ability, and headed there.
Later that evening…
This couch was beginning to feel like quicksand. I said my peace in court, and they shuffled me out the door, and I’m back on this couch. I still hadn’t changed, and I could see the sun was setting. I looked at the duffle bag beside Henry’s travel case and the door. I could do this. I was sticking to the plan. I’m ready. Only one hour had passed, but it felt like a lifetime. I stood up and looked out the window. The police car wasn’t there. Why wasn’t it there? Maybe they went for coffee or something. Yeah, that’s it, I thought. I could use a coffee myself. I needed caffeine to keep my focus up. I walked into the kitchen and pushed on the button at the top of the Keurig.
Patiently I waited and listened as the machine came to life. A bang at my door startled me, followed by subtle knocking. Cautiously I approached the door and looked at the peephole. It was Michael. My breath caught. How was he here? I ripped open the door to see him breathing heavily. Before I could speak, he interjected, “come on, let’s go.”
I turned to look for Henry as he interrupted, grabbing my hand shaking his head, “Henry needs to stay.” Was he reading my thoughts?
I shook my head no, “you know….” He interrupted me again, pulling me, “we’ll come back for him and leave that stuff.” He said, looking down at my bag.
Before I had a moment to think, he pulled me through the entryway and closed the door behind us. I didn’t even get a glimpse of Henry. He must’ve been hidden somewhere. I panicked. This wasn’t the plan. My breath increased as we raced down the stairs avoiding the elevator making it to the street.
“Get in,” Michael shouted. I paused, taking in the car. It was the sixth-floor garage car. I hadn’t seen this car in some time.
“Mira, get in!” He shouted again.
I hurried into the passenger side seat, unable to think, slamming the door behind me as Michael entered on the driver’s side. His door slammed, and we sped off. We were breathing heavily in silence as he reached the back seat, grabbed a box, and pushed it onto my lap.
“Take off everything you have off and put it in this box. You’ve outgrown it,” he said.
“Michael,” I said.
“Mira plans change. Do it.”
Quietly I pulled off my shirt, shoes, pants, and everything I had on placing it into the cardboard box. He smiled.
“Oh, I’m just supposed to sit here naked?” I said, frustrated, feeling anger and sadness slowly overtaking my body. This was not my plan.
He laughed effortlessly, “no,” he said, pointing to the folded clothes sitting on the backseat that I hadn’t noticed before with all the distraction. I smirked, reaching back for the clothing that was neatly folded. His laugh made me feel better, and these looked beautiful, silky, and elegant. Not like something I could afford.
“This?” I said, questioning the rich materials. He nodded. I slid them on, admiring the fabrics as he slowed the car down.
“What are you doing?” I said.
“There,” he pointed at a storefront that read Plato’s Closet, “take that box of your stuff and hand it over for donation.”
I frowned, unhappy at where I thought this plan was headed.
“It’s fine, Mira, do it. We need to keep moving,” he said.
I didn’t know why I kept blindly following his direction, but I did. I took a deep breath, grabbed the box, opened the car door, and headed toward the store. I glanced back at him. He was watching me closely. He was handsome. I smiled at the thought and pushed the glass door open to see a smiling woman standing at the front counter.
“Can I help you, Miss?” She said.
“Yes, I’d like to donate these. Could I do that here?” I said.
“Of course,” she said, smiling again, “you can leave the box on the counter there. We’ll go through it then.”
“Thank you,” I said, setting it down and waving as I walked back to the car.
I situated more, plunging into the car seat, and stared ahead. I wasn’t sure what to think. My mind had gone blank, and my breathing slowed. Then a tiny thrill stirred among my fingers as they moved along the elegant fabric that now graced my skin. I looked up to see Michael staring at me intensely as he reached for my hand. My body shivered as his fingers laced with mine. His foot moved to the gas pedal as he squeezed my hand tightly, and I shuttered. I was still so nervous, so I focused on the engine’s sound humming loudly as the city’s noise faded behind us. What had I done? I thought to myself, and then I remembered the day we met, and deep down, I always knew Michael would be the beginning of my end. I paused the thought. Maybe he had always been the start of my new beginning?
The End.
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7 comments
Hi! This was a fun, thrilling read and I love that it was a cool response to the prompt. I love your descriptive language— the pancake simile was a favorite—but I think a lot of that beautiful language gets lost in the volume of words. Less is more, so I would trim this down. If you read it aloud, you’ll hear what you need to eliminate. You might want to consider your sentence variety—a lot of your sentences begin with “i” and I realize that’s hard to switch up in first person POV, but it could be helpful in a revision.
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Thank you for your feedback- couldn't agree more. This story started as one thing, and I think I may have forced it into something else, causing a lot more I's than intended, haha.
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That was a very clever way to respond to the prompt! Your writing is easy to follow, I can visualize everything the characters are doing, and I think you did a good job framing your story. The metaphor of the overcooked pancake in the beginning came across as a little out of place and just a tad bit distracting, but otherwise I felt like I could imagine the narrator’s personality pretty well. She seems sweet, quirky, and likable. I also wish I knew a little more about her backstory and had a hint as to what the legal trouble is. Good job!
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Thank you for your feedback- I 100% agree on the pancake line, hahaha- it felt forced when I wrote, but I needed it there for some reason. Why? I don't know, lol.
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I get that! Sometimes I go back to old writing and remember loving a line or a character, but totally shaking my head it after a second close reading.
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I wish I knew just a little bit more about Mira, Michael, and why she had to go to court. :)
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Thank you for reading!
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