tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post89816974870081522..comments2023-07-06T07:33:06.262-04:00Comments on * Writers' Spark * Every story has to start somewhere *: Prompt: Is it you, or is it me? Unknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3022413452547277809.post-28296621195032246482013-11-18T17:12:13.886-05:002013-11-18T17:12:13.886-05:00Prompt: Is it you, or is it me?
I reached across...Prompt: Is it you, or is it me?<br /><br /><br />I reached across my notes to flip the page of the textbook and caught sight of my watch. Damn! I was late!<br /><br />I turned the flip into a slam-and-slide, using the textbook as a shovel to push my notebook into my bookbag, following with the text. Zip up, strap across one shoulder, sleeve of my jumper pulled up to another, and I was on my way out of the library.<br /><br />“Helen, what the hell?” Jason called after me as I raced down the steps past him.<br /><br />“Late for Prof Wilkes,” I said, but could not help turning to look as I spoke. I knew it was a mistake before my running right foot landed on air instead of stair, and then I was falling, tumbling – elbow, shoulder, chin, side, bum, bum, bum. I slid to a stop on my seat four steps from the bottom.<br /><br />“You okay?” Jason was beside me, looking all handsome and concerned. Why was he heading into the library? He has physics lab the same time I did, and he was more of a nerd than I was. He definitely wouldn’t want to come under the famous Wilkes scrutiny.<br /><br />I rubbed my chin. “Fithn,” I slurred. I worked my jaw and tried again. “Fine.”<br /><br />“I don’t know,” Jason said. “That looked pretty...dramatic.” I wondered what adjective he had swallowed there. I’d dreamed of a nice, private conversation with Jason, but this wasn’t quite how it had gone. He reached for my hand, which still covered my cheek. My heart skipped a beat. “And your poor jaw, on top of the bruise you had at practical today...”<br /><br />I stared at him. “I’m just heading to practical.”<br /><br />He wrinkled his forehead. “I just came from practical. You had a massive bruise...“ He tugged my hand away from my face. “...right where you’ve got that red bit now.”<br /><br /><br />Time writing: 20 minAnnenoreply@blogger.com