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mary g.'s avatar

Here's another one from yours truly:

Graham, for the life of him, could not find the floss. Terry watched her husband bang and bash his way through the drawers, the medicine cabinets, his travel bag, all to no avail. If he didn’t find the floss soon, her husband, King of Freakouts, a man absolutely opposed to ever asking for help, instructions, directions, anything--was going to lose his mind.

“Honey, you want help?” Terry called out to her husband, though she already knew the answer.

“Aaaarrrggghhhh!” Graham cried.

While her husband continued to thrash, Terry reached into her handbag, pulled out the floss she always kept in her makeup bag, unreeled one long line of floss, and then worked between her teeth, loosening the bits that were stuck there with glee.

“Let me know!” she called out as she rolled the floss between her fingers into a dainty little ball and thought of all the things in her life that were stuck and needed loosening.

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David Snider's avatar

Eric glanced up to the top of the ridge, then down to the river thrashing in its gorge against the cliffs, and shook his head. Trish gazed at her frozen boots, saying nothing, but she didn’t have to say anything, he knew all of this was his fault, his violation of the protocols of good sense, talking her into taking this questionable shortcut through ever-deepening snow.

“What now, genius?” she asked.

“We keep trying,” Eric replied, “or we die.”

She looked at him then, a flash of anger and fear pulsing from her searing blue eyes, and she turned and stalked away, as much as one could stalk away on a steep, snowy, icy slope. After a moment Eric went after her, no plan, no vision, no hope, only a notion that they were better off together than apart even if she hated him. He was looking at her instead of his feet and thus stepped blindly onto not snow but ice and fell, endlessly, face forward, flailing, sliding straight for the wall of rocks four hundred yards away, until he heard the thwack of her axe and stopped short, dangling from his pack straps, unable to move, barely able to breathe.

“Hey,” Trish said, behind and above him, “you might want to be more cautious. If you want to get out of here in one piece.”

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