Random Daily Fiction #1-?

Be kind to me, I'm just starting out this project. Don't quite know where I'm going with it, or how its going to work, but I thought it might be fun to just randomly write something every day, since I kind of already do that. Just now its public. Its not the kind of thing that on its own is supposed to have a ton of meaning or merit or anything, its just either combinations of words that sounded good to me, or an idea for something that I didn't want to escape me, or perhaps even just what I was feeling at the time I wrote it.


RDF #1 - 11 December 2002
She gave him a cool stare. A world of emotions packed into one all so simple seeming face - the anger, the wasted years, the jealousy, the abandon, the tiny bit of love still lingering somewhere... She slung her bag over her shoulder, tossed a paper at his feet, and with a final sweep of her eyes walked out the door. He collapsed onto the couch; it sagged under his weight. It had all too suddenly felt excessive - the hot motionless air, his tired body, his onerous guilt. His head fell into his hands, elbows resting resignedly on weak knees. His eyes caught the paper she had purposefully placed for him. He opened it and read: One day you told me I'd be something great. It starts now. Her simple words, adding the last bit of weight to his already aching load. He laboriously stood, walked into the bedroom, and knowingly stepped into his closet. The cacophany of daily lives absorbed his last goodbye, and with that he was gone.

RDF #2 - 15 December 2002
He felt his mind wasn’t as malleable as it used to be. When he was younger – words, facts, numbers – they would all wind and carve their way through his brain, each finding its niche and settling down for life. He had cheated himself. He had wasted that time. Now inside his head was a lump of clay – dried and hard from air and too much time in the sun. Inveterate. Ignominious. Insipid. Each one shattered, crashed, derailed itself when it hit the brick wall of his mind. He could no longer learn in that wonderful way he used to. Oh, to be a child again…

RDF #3 - 16 December 2002
The phone rang. Her eyes flicked to it, then back to her nail file. Wisps of Farah Fawcett flare popped out from behind her ears. Her fleshy breasts spilled out of the bright silky blouse. Years of experience in the department of corporate receptionist tops. She had learned to flaunt what she had. What did it matter if she was a little thicker in the middle than those power-hungry stretched-too-thin barely girls who zoomed through the office each day? She had hips, a chest, curves – each wrinkle a scintillating line that any man could see led somewhere. She, she was a woman – in every possible sense of the word.

RDF #4 - 17 December 2002
A not so perfect tooth gnawed at the edge of the dry chapped lip. Short fingernails with dried bits of the day stuck underneath drummed the window sill expectantly. In that silent corridor the action rivaled a stampede through the canyons. Equally audible was the perpetual buzzing of overhead fluorescence. She had always hated lights like that. Lights, VCRs left on, the distant hum of machinery – things most normal ears didn’t perceive. Damn her reticular activating system. She could never block it out – any of it. She bit down harder on the lip at the thought. She also hated this waiting. When would it come? The gateway she had waited to see open, the light at the end of her veritable tunnel, the map out of her labyrinth. It was promised to arrive by eight. She looked at her watch. Its neon face stuck its tongue out at her – two minutes to eight. Tension nestled itself between her shoulder blades, slid up her neck, and escaped her mouth by means of a weary sigh.