why I'm a writer

Is because of days like this.

Just when the words roll off my fingertips, and I feel like it's blessed.

I wrote one long chapter today, then read it, and was so pleased!

I'll excerpt a bit, just because I can. They're my words, as much as anything's mine.

And just give thanks for being gifted with this treasure!!

Today's word count- 5,702




If life did change on a dime, in only innocuous moments, Holly had the fortune to be handed three such occasions. The first had occurred last Friday when Miles asked her to dance. The second had been when he jumped into his Mustang and followed her home. The third was there in the parking lot. While she fumbled with her keys to unlock her car, she dropped them, her trembling body loose and uncooperative.

That allowed Miles the time to leave a pile of cash on the table, then to scramble outside. If she’d been able to get right in her car, or if he’d had to use a credit card, their lives would have crossed in that week, then moved onto other paths. As it was, due to her shaking fingers and his speed of movements, one more moment brought them together.

“Holly, HOLLY! Wait, god please wait!”

His voice crossed through the parking lot, scaring her worse than his hand on her arm Monday morning. She bent down, reaching her hands along the cement, only seeking her keys.

He joined her and it was there that bodies once again met, hands touching the ground, his crouched thighs along hers. His large upper torso pressed into her back, and Holly tried to stand.

“I, no, this’s, I,” she stuttered, making no sense.

“Holly, what, what’d I do?”

As she got on her feet, Miles did too, inches apart from the other. Her keys were in his hand, and she only stared at them. Her keys, her life, and back to her it would return.

“Miles, it’s no good. You’re too young and I want, oh shit.” She kicked a tire with her shoe, then began to cry. “Miles, I’m in a different place in my life. You’ve got this new career and school if you want and you’re young and we just want different things.”

“What things, Holly, I love you!”

“Oh god,” she sighed, wiping her face with her hand. “Miles, I want to get married, have kids, have a life with someone who wants all those things too. I’ll be thirty in a few years, god, that sounds so fucking old!” She laughed, then cried some more. “Miles, you’re twenty-two for god’s sake. You’re just getting your feet wet, you know, in life, in work, in everything. It’s just not what I want, I mean...”

“Holly, you have no idea what I want!”

Other sounds were heard, that of cars, conversations, the night in Los Angeles. One of a cool breeze similar to what floated around them this time a week ago, when he wanted to see her out of the club, wanted her number. Ended up following her home, but how in the world did he expect her to change her mind.

“Okay Miles, you tell me. You tell me what you want. But I know it, because you guys are all the same. Someone to sleep with, someone to shack up with for a little while, while you figure out the next job, the next scam. The next chick lined up for when this relationship gets too close to the bone. When I get too needy or whiny or start talking about kids or marriage or settling down. Then it all goes to shit because you’re only a kid and I’m looking at the backside of thirty and…”

He kissed her then, not what she’d expected at all. What Holly assumed was he’d sheepishly agree, hand her back those damn keys, and she’d drive home cursing ever going to The Waterhole with Sigourney last week. It had been great for Siggy and Graham, but was only turning out to be a fiasco for Holly and Miles.

Except that his kiss was on her mouth, warm, tender, only his lips, soft and so intimate that Holly could barely stand. Only his arms kept her upright, for they were now around her, and as he ended the kiss, his voice found her ear.

“Holly, you’re talking to someone who does want all the same as you. Believe it or not, the last thing I’m looking for is a one night stand.”

She felt dizzy, a little ill. Not enough to bring up her lasagna, and she only reached for his scar. “How do they hide it?”

“Who?” he asked, still with his arms around her.

“The makeup guys. Or gals,” and she giggled. “How, how do they do it?”

“They don’t. It’s written into my character.”

“It is?”

“Yeah, just like you are.”

“I am?” she breathed.

He nodded, pulling her close. “Oh yeah Holly. My god, I can’t imagine living without you!”

Standing against him, Holly wanted to cry, but didn’t. He was, Miles was trembling, clutching to her, his tears not quiet. Only his voice was muted, repeating that sentence, whispering it in her ear.