Short Story, Writing

The Letter

I wrote this very short story a few years ago while I was the sponsor of a writing club at school. We would come up with story starters or topics to write about. The topic on this particular day: Sneaking around behind someone’s back. I really wanted to try something a little different. I admit my mind typically goes to cheating or theft, but I decided to try two sets of sneaking around in my fictional story. As always, if you enjoy my work and want to use it, please make sure you give credit. 

ink pen and parchment on wood

The Letter

The door silently closed behind me as I let myself into the house. The alarm didn’t go off, so I knew that Nick was home. I plopped my bags on the floor and went to search for him. It had been four long days since I’d seen him, and I was actually home a day early.

As I passed by the television, a flash of white caught my eye. There, taped to the screen, was an envelope with my name on it. Footsteps sounded upstairs as I plucked the envelope off the television and opened it.

The breath was sucked out of me and the words swam across the page. He was leaving me. And he was taking the coward’s way out. My eyes narrowed as I realized what the frantic rushing around upstairs was all about. He was obviously trying to get everything packed before I got home.

My body trembled. It tends to do that when I’m really upset about something. I can’t seem to hide any of my emotions. My teeth started to chatter as I contemplated my actions and how to deal with the coward upstairs.

The couch looked inviting, so I plopped down, suddenly exhausted. Three years. Three long years of putting up with him. We had lived together for a year and a half. All the laughs we had together. All the tears we’d shared. Other thoughts flashed through my mind. The forgotten birthdays and anniversaries. The dinners he hadn’t made it home in time to eat while they were warm. The late nights working. Me. Cleaning whiskers off the bathroom every day for the last year and a half.

I sat there quietly remembering, my eyes dry. I slowly put the letter back into the envelope. I got up off the couch. My bag seemed light for the first time that day. I placed the letter back on the television and silently walked out of the house. He was right. The coward’s way was the best way.

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