In Which C.F. Barron Writes Through Delirium
It’s 6 am, and I’ve got to get my cat to the vet by 8 before heading into work. This may go down in history as the single worst piece of writing to ever land on the internet, but I’m too tired to care right now so this will literally be me stream of consciousness writing, and hopefully it doesn’t scare anyone away. Let’s do this.
The day they met was unlike any other. Maggie had gotten to work on time, for starters. In spite of the small hurricane that apparently only blew through her commute path, the half dozen speed traps seemingly lined up in the exact scientific manner necessary to prevent anyone from going over 63mph, and the alleged yeti sighting her eyes tore through, she had managed to punch in at 8:30 on the dot.
Then there was the way everyone was treating her. She didn’t think she had been around the company long enough for anyone to know her name let alone enough about her to ask if she read about the yeti sighting, or ask her if she was excited about the new Blue October album coming out. If she didn’t know any better, she could have sworn she even say a hint of attraction in the eyes of some of the men talking to her. Of course, she knew better. Her hair looked terrible this morning because she had gone to bed with it wet, she had gotten dressed in a hurry and the lack of a full length mirror made knowing if her outfit looked good or not impossible, not to mention the obvious thing which was her weight. She made a conscious effort not to cross her arms around herself and hunch. It was a habit she had learned in junior high, and it resurfaced from time to time. Something she did to hide the little pooch where she kept her extra cookies as her mom had once called it.
By the time lunch rolled around she was surprised to find that not a single bad or annoying thing had happened to her all morning. Her sandy brown hair had been complimented, the outfit she had thrown together was good enough to become a regular one, she thought, and she had successfully fought the urge to shrink in on herself. But then she went to the staff fridge and realized she had forgotten her lunch.
“Fuck. Guess I’m eating out” she muttered to herself as stared at the fridge full of paper bags and tupperware with sticky note decor.
“Oh, where are you going?” came a voice she’d never heard before.
Maggie’s head snapped up, her gaze landing on someone it had never taken in before. Copper skin, sharp cheek bones, a slight wave in the cut of her hair, yoga pants. For a moment, she let her eyes linger on the delicate hands and short hair before finally making contact with the light brown of this stranger’s eyes.
At length they both realized the awkward lull in the air, and Maggie wondered if she had been actively staring at… at…
“Sorry!” the stranger said. “Didn’t mean to jump scare you.” here she extended her hand. “ I’m Marissa”
Cool that was a lot easier than expected, maybe I should write while seleep deprived more often. I’m feeling this as a will they, won’t they, romance but I have no clue if this is going to go anywhere, I guess it depends on how many people want to continue reading it. if I get five people who aren’t my wife (yeah, I see you plotting over there V) who want me to continue whatever this storyline is I’ll add more tomorrow. Toodles!