Another squeaker!

Trust

The smell of the pastry was mouth-watering. I asked the baker, “Cuanto cuesta?” He rattled off a sequence of words. I thought I recognized “cien”—hundred—or was it “cientos”—hundreds, the plural?

Shopping in Jerez was part of our orientation tour. We’d been taught common Spanish phrases earlier in the week, including the denominations of the local currency.

I glanced in confusion from the change in my hand to the baker. Gently, he plucked a gold cien peseta piece and three smaller coins off my palm. We smiled at each other, completing our transaction in an unspoken currency—trust.

Tep, new topic? I just finished a grisly copyedit (after a marathon three-day edit) and I'm itching to drabble.

Need suggestions? I've got:

"heat"
"wicked"
two people in a cemetery
"growing"
one person exploring an attic
"toys"

Why can I never get formatting right the first time? Grrr.

I just sent all my R&RNF readers something. Input desired, please.

Also under the wire.

Coin of the Realm

It's nothing personal, they assure me. Disembodied voices over the phone tell me my life is about to change drastically, yet again, without my permission.

Nothing personal. The company's decided to go in a different direction. My services are no longer required.

It stings a bit nonetheless, of course. A cog being stripped out of the corporate machine still has some feelings. Inconvenient though they are.

Disposibility being the coin of the realm, though, I’m not as surprised as I was the last time.

So, I wrap up my ennui and my experience, and set out for the next camp.

I'm posting the new drabble challenge, but, for you last-minute "currency" posters, if you want to post it to the LJ community -- and, as always, I think you should -- by all means, PLEASE do.

That said....

Challenge #70 (currency) is now closed.

Challenge #71 is The Other Side. (And I just creeped myself out by remembering the Other Mother from Coraline. Eeep!)

Catch you on the flip side.

Journals from 1978

They promised me light. It was supposed to get easier.

Page: 19/10/78 - interesting day, think I'm pregnant, not happy with the library here in the London office.

Flip: I hate you. I hate you for leaving, hurting me, coming back, making it impossible for me to not love you, fuck you FUCK YOU.

Lighter? Easier?

Page: 25/12/78 - Christmas, Cornwall, good weather, dinner with Colin. Very hormonal, oddly weepy.

Flip: Why aren't you here? Why am I here without you, pregnant without you? How could you not be here?

The flip side? It's all about ghosts in the dark.

I'm shy about posting this, but I've probably bored all of you with it somewhere so, wth?
The Other Side of Unrequited Love is easy to get stuck in, even as the fantasies fade, and a long shot becomes a non-shot.

1. It’s still always a thrill to hear from the Beloved, who has quickly become an oasis of sane and smart in a very crazy and stupid world. A word from him is like giving my heart an espresso and in the Bush years, that can be very hard to find.

2. I like the me I see through his eyes better than the one that’s in mine.(Although to be fair to myself, I do nothing but burnish my A-game during the times we speak and struggle hard not to say anything stupid. I work harder writing for him than I ever did on my resume.) I think he may think I’m a genius...his platonic woman friend genius,...but I’m harshing my own buzz.

3. Sublimating instincts makes me write really hard, and like I finally have stuff to say. So much passion and empty hands makes my keyboard like a liquored up prom date.

4. My complexion cannot tell the love chemicals are based on bullshit. Seriously, when I’m not thinking I’m The Ugliest Woman Alive, who will certainly Die Alone, I’ve detected a bit of a glow, lately.

It’s almost worth the pain. Almost.

So much passion and empty hands makes my keyboard like a liquored up prom date.

I really, really love this, erika. I'm here with my rum and coke and my date, too. I'm starting to think I should get one of those computers that talks to you.

It's beginning to bother me how often I speak of writing in sexual terms. No wonder almost everyone I've ever been hot for writes.

Proposals blow. I don't know any dramatic anecdotes.