Fractured Fiction (Part 1)

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Anticipation

Scott woke before his alarm one bright winter morning. Humming to himself, he daydreamed about Anya. Her photo made her look elfin and graceful, but his friends had joked that she was probably fifty and large as an elephant.

“Are you kidding? She’s perfect,” Scott refused to allow their negativity to weigh on his mind. “Sometimes things are exactly as they seem. You will see, she is going to save me.”

The alarm clock glow caught his eye, snapping him back to the present. 7:35 – he would have to leave right away if he wanted to buy her roses before heading to the airport. He rushed around the tiny apartment, taking care to put away his open yearbook and yellowing prom pictures. It was time to put high school (and her) in the past – Anya was his future now.

Scott straightened his tie in the mirror one last time and left to go pick up his new bride.

Remodel

Dust clings to his eyelashes. He removes the curling wallpaper, revealing unfinished walls and mouse-droppings in an exposed outlet. Cursing, he hauls the ripped paper to the garbage can outside and begins dreaming of the slightly toxic smell of new-homes.

The Critic

The cheap metal folding chair pinches the tips of his fingers as he fidgets with the loose piece of hinge. The door beckons as the music swells.

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