The Great Freak Out of 2024

Fiction Friday

mixed-media oil painting on wood. available.

It was 3:00 in the morning when Riley sprang out of bed.

She needed to write. She wasn’t sure exactly what she wanted to write. A poem, a novel, a screenplay, a letter, a memo —it didn’t matter. Riley had to write, and she had to do it now.

Her new girlfriend, Elizabeth, slept soundly beside her as she carefully crawled over her to get her laptop. A writer’s best friend, the laptop, ever-present and awaiting your next burst of literary genius.

A writer’s worst enemy, the laptop, a constant reminder that you never seem to have any bursts of literary genius.

Not wanting to wake her precious, new love — new being the keyword here — Riley tiptoes out of the apartment.

I’ll find a nice curb, have a seat, and just start typing.

Riley thinks of Elizabeth, sleeping safely and cozily in her bed. They’ve been dating for six months now. Six months is Riley’s PSDT - Pacific Standard Dating Time.

Like clockwork, on the second day of the beginning of the seventh month, Riley is out the door and closing yet another chapter in her romantic, almost-love story.

But this time, this time could be, might be, different. Elizabeth is kind, smart, sexy, independent, and funny.

But, the ever-present but. Not Elizabeth’s butt, but the but that seems to come after a positive list of a woman's attributes. This kind of but begins with that other list. The list of quirks, Riley couldn’t possibly endure in another. In short, the kind of but that fucks it all up.