WWTBAM Bored

BackInTex wrote:The room was dark, except for the faint light coming through the window from the street light half a block down the road. You could hear the whirring of the old and wobbling ceiling fan which was stirring the smoke from the half smoked cuban cigar laying in the ash tray next to his tumbler of scotch. It was straight Glenlivet Nadurra. It was all he ever drank since meeting her that night in Bolivar. Like most nights, he was just sitting there, half drunk, staring at the rising, swirling smoke from the Cuban, and thinking. Thinking "What did I say? Why did she just walk out like that?" Its been twenty years. And he still asks himself the same thing. Then he realized the date. It was August 15th. So he gently picks up the tumbler, raises it the air and smiles. And through his chapped,cracked lips, softly says "Happy birthday Frank, wherever you a...". He didn't finish the sentence. He just sat there, and remembered. He remembered what she said. For twenty years his mind had blocked those words from his memory. But now they were clear as day. Those words that shattered his world. "I'm leaving you, for him. It is he I love. Frank owns my heart."


Don't worry. I'm keeping my day job.

Happy Birthday Frank!

franktangredi wrote: I can't wait to find out what happens next!

franktangredi wrote:

BackInTex wrote:The room was dark, except for the faint light coming through the window from the street light half a block down the road. You could hear the whirring of the old and wobbling ceiling fan which was stirring the smoke from the half smoked cuban cigar laying in the ash tray next to his tumbler of scotch. It was straight Glenlivet Nadurra. It was all he ever drank since meeting her that night in Bolivar. Like most nights, he was just sitting there, half drunk, staring at the rising, swirling smoke from the Cuban, and thinking. Thinking "What did I say? Why did she just walk out like that?" Its been twenty years. And he still asks himself the same thing. Then he realized the date. It was August 15th. So he gently picks up the tumbler, raises it the air and smiles. And through his chapped,cracked lips, softly says "Happy birthday Frank, wherever you a...". He didn't finish the sentence. He just sat there, and remembered. He remembered what she said. For twenty years his mind had blocked those words from his memory. But now they were clear as day. Those words that shattered his world. "I'm leaving you, for him. It is he I love. Frank owns my heart."


Don't worry. I'm keeping my day job.

Happy Birthday Frank!

Maybe we should start another Bored novel.
I can't wait to find out what happens next!