Here’s a snippet from a new short story I’m working on. I just had to share it with you.
“Tell me one supposedly true thing,” she said playfully, walking backwards ahead of him, her long auburn hair floating back towards him in the breeze. Her black and white skirt flapped around her knees as she moved.
He laughed, high in his throat, sounding like a nervous schoolboy. Everything about this woman made him feel young and giddy. He wanted to tell her everything; all the sordid details of his past, all of his mistakes, all of his triumphs. He wanted to. But he couldn’t. It was exactly that wretched past that kept him from being able to tell her something true – anything true. “I like chocolate,” he said with a grin, “And I like you.”
“Oh, but that’s two things,” she laughed. “I only asked for one supposedly true thing.” She stopped and cocked her head to the side, looking at him with narrowed eyes and hands on her hips. “Which one is true, I wonder.”