July 7, 2010

[A good friend of mine has recently introduced me to a style of short stories called “Worders” that consist of 100-200 words that aim to focus on a singular moment. The foreword quotes Joyce’s idea of the “epiphany—a shout in the street, the overheard conversation, the tap on the window late at night, and even the joke.” This is what I tried to channel in the following creative short story.]

She had no idea where she was. The cold tile cradled her throbbing head until her vision leveled out. The white curve of the porcelain bowl slowly came into focus. She started to realize the wall nearest her head was only a foot tall, and belonged to a bathtub. A cold sweat blanketed her ashen skin. She would have stood up and ran if her muscles had any life left in them.

“These buildings don’t have roots.

These buildings don’t have roots,” she mumbled under her breath, eyes squeezed tight against the fluorescent glare.

He knocked. She knew it was him by the timidness in his fingertips. The liquids in her veins grew hot. Or was it the ones in her stomach?

She let him slide next to her, as she nestled in the crook of his shoulder, eyes squeezing out hot drops of salty. She tried to remember that her constructions were not permanent. Or even necessarily true. The buildings she created, the towers and castles and apartments that felt like home during the daylight weren’t grounded in anything other than her mind. The night she told him that his love was stifling, was eating her self-esteem alive, he looked at her like she was crazy. He said her words didn’t make any sense; how could loving someone be crippling them?

But she hadn’t had the courage to explain. To explain that it wasn’t his love that was crippling her, but the conditions on which he loved her. The thought of losing her best friend because she wasn’t in love with him had driven them apart.

She wanted to stay apart. But their lips met.

His kiss said, “I’m sorry.” Her kiss said, “I’m scared.”

Her hand trembled on the smooth, lifeless tile. Maybe this building would crumble too, if she willed it hard enough. Maybe she could rip it right out of the earth, exposing the hole it was built over. But this building had roots.