C Waterman
Stories (3)
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The Short Drive
I rolled my car to a stop at the red light. It was yellow when I turned on to the street and I was still too far away to make it to the intersection before it turned red. The rain had just stopped and the road was still very slick with water. There were still traces of clouds up above so the night seemed darker than usual.
By C Waterman4 years ago in Fiction
Lavender and Marigold
I remember her from a part of my youth that exists in a bubble, that I can only access when my memories fade between make-believe and real life. The only confirmation that she was real comes when I am visiting home. It's when I drive past the dusty road where her house still stands, albeit now in dark disarray. In my memory, the house was a glowing well-lit haven. The woman was ancient and looked on the verge of crumbling, like the fragile lavender cookies that she baked daily in her kitchen.
By C Waterman4 years ago in Fiction
Curated
I found it after you left, sitting innocently amongst the clutter on my desk. We spent that morning in a strained silence that splintered from the night before. If we are to be honest, the tension had been building for months now. You are just too… regimented. I have begged you for patience again and again. I always seem to fall short then you feel bad for yelling. We know this dance; the steps are so familiar. I fall short, you get angry, I make it up to you, you apologize. I suppose that is the problem, I never apologize to you and now you have disappeared. You and everything you own, save for this small box wrapped in unassuming brown paper.
By C Waterman4 years ago in Fiction
