Susan, I like this best:

And her last words to her husband had been, "Just go."

I noticed that you didn't have it in quotes, in the section you had me beta, but I didn't mention it, because it felt like a personal style thing.

Well, I felt weird about putting it in quotes, because she's not speaking, she's remembering speaking, which feels more like it should be a thought and get italics/underlining. None of them really look right to me.

Uplifting thought about writing: Margaret Atwood didn't publish her first novel, either. And she used to be broke and think she was hopeless and have to borrow money from her parents. Well, I think MA is a genius, so it made *me* feel better.

I always find those kinds of stories uplifting. Those authors who sell their first books straight out of the gate, however....

ION, I'm supporting my local chapter by entering its contest. To meet the page count requirement on an appropriate scene break, I switched that section from Courier to TNR. Gosh, that looks tiny once your eyes have adjusted to Courier.

If it's Monday, this must be new drabble day!

Challenge #58 (shadow) is now closed.

Challenge #59 is: the ways we communicate without words. Obviously, that doesn't mean no words in the drabble, because that would just be a blank page. And it also doesn't -- necessarily -- mean no dialogue. Just drabble about extra-verbal communication, and see where it takes you.

If this is confusing, and/or you have suggestions for future topics, by all means, let me know!

Jeepers. Yes, relating to the new non-Ringan thing I'm working on. One hundred words on the first shot:

It's All There

It's all there.

It's there in the way she watches me play. Her shoulders start out tense, pulled back hard; I play and she hears me, she bloody gets it, and the shoulders relax.

It's there in the way she kicks the world to the kerb when I get home from the road: no one gets in, no one touches us, just each other. It's there in the way she reaches for me, in the way I pull her down to me, hips, hands, the lot.

It's there in the way we touch, the only language needed.

It's all there.

It's sad that I'm tempted to write an entire drabble in 1337-speak, isn't it?

Most of our communication is my halting, shy, self-hating words and your talking computer, which you do not bring to my bed. I am a dialogue junkie even at twenty and I hate that you deprive me at such a time of your usual baroque skein of compliments.While I just lie there, naked. That is how I come to understand your voice...the one you were born with, not the assistive-tech voice(The curse words are the clearest. I love you takes a couple visits. Is that your problem, or mine?) When we kiss, we could be any couple in America.

drabble

The Intensive Care staff try to keep me out. The drugs Hubby's reacting to are making him thrash. The sedative should have knocked him out enough for them to get the IVs in to stabilize him. Somebody breathlessly suggests restraints. I hear him try to scream around the tube in his throat.

"Ma'am, you can't--!"

I get a hand on his foot. He twitches and goes quiet. Panic, then they see the vital signs coming off their frightening spikes. The head of the team waves back the nurse reaching for me.

"It can wait."

Drabble:

Speed whistles past the canopy and trembles in the controls as we cruise toward the next turnpoint. A dip of the wing first one way, then the other, hints at the lift we are passing by. A pulsing buzz from the instrument panel coaches, "A little faster...now slower...." The unwinding altimeter feeds that little knot of fear that we'll have to land in some farmer's field, while the sight of distance made good tries to reassure us that it was height well spent.

A kick in the pants tells us we've found the next good thermal, just in time. We circle, and climb, and dance the dance again.