breakups
When it comes to breakups, pain is inevitable, but Humans thinks that suffering is optional.
The Loveless Couch
They sat beside each other on the couch in the counselor's office a strategic distance apart, careful not to touch each other, of course. She wondered momentarily if the love seat in her therapist’s office was some kind of cruel joke, a too-tight space pushing couples together like a pair of thistles poking each other uncomfortably. She’d decided that it was a couch of mockery, where tattered love goes into the ring to fight for its existence. She would, from now on, refer to it as “the loveless couch.”
By Tammy Rousselle5 years ago in Humans
Art of a Narcissist
He said he was wasting his time with a relative nobody. She shared no passion for his masterful oils, his up and coming marine-life paintings recognized for their circular brush strokes and colorful marks. She had no usefulness, and her only talent was striking up conversations with the leather-faced dimwitted fishermen that came to look at his paintings but never purchased. Besides he watched her have a child, his child, and said he was no longer attracted to her after that grotesque display of womanhood.
By Mary Miles5 years ago in Humans
A Crazy Idea
Addis was a man full of passion. Being full of passion leads to being full of emotion. Thus, we can say Addis is an emotional man. Incredibly emotional. Weather doesn’t seem to help the situation, especially when it starts to rain. And it’s dark out. And your girlfriend has left you.
By Deylan Dean5 years ago in Humans
Dumb Luck
Dumb Luck Beth, newly unengaged and a little bit more reckless than usual, wore exactly the wrong dress to the casino cruise. Over watery margaritas at an oceanfront dive in Vero Beach the night before, ensconced in a wraparound booth with a bachelorette party consisting of eight of her new best friends, Beth had clinked her tumbler into theirs in the glittering, restless dim and agreed: why wouldn’t she hit the cruise the next night with them, try her luck? Emboldened by the false confidence of four or five cocktails, having successfully (if temporarily) corralled the shrieking, bereft part of herself still reeling from the dissolution of her own engagement, Beth had become part of this group of keyed-up strangers. She was in coastal Florida, alone, on what should have been a honeymoon. She liked their cheerleader intensity, their giddiness that had likely been forced at the beginning of the evening but, with the continual administration of pump-up pop songs and tequila shots, had transformed into something that looked very much like joy.
By Stephanie Pushaw5 years ago in Humans
Blackest Sheep
Three stood in photos that have crossed the feed of the past. Blank in the meaning of a missing figure standing in a line with the rest. Each picture plays a part in the way that a life is played out, left out and unwanted. Three supporting the others while looking down on the rest, or speaking behind their back.
By Alexandrea Justine5 years ago in Humans
Mindset Matters
"Why are you still here? Useless b***h!" he mumbled as he stumbled in the front door. At that moment, she knew what she had to do. "I'm moving out," she said to herself in a low voice, knowing he wouldn't hear. But he had already gone back out the front door, leaving the door wide open and slamming the gate.
By Elisabeth Thompson5 years ago in Humans
Indelible
I have the worst habit of playing things over and over again in my mind; the same memory, shifted and permuted and warped with each recall as I try to think about what I might have done differently. How my life may have turned out if I had said something a little more smooth, stopped fiddling with my jacket zipper, or even just reached out to hold her. Ruminating. Apparently this is called ruminating. The reason this is bad is because you can never change the past. Do you know that? I don’t know if I fully do.
By J. W. Kennelly5 years ago in Humans
Tokyo
The key turned slowly. My hand was moist. The key slipped a little. I took a deep breath. I was careful not to drop the tightly packed brown paper bags of organic food I’d just carried three blocks and seventeen flights of stairs. We paid top dollar for a penthouse in central Tokyo, yet today of all days the elevator decides to stop. I could feel my shirt sticking to me, my hair was soaked. The humidity was higher than the midday sun.
By Stephen Johansson 5 years ago in Humans
The Ring
"Don't forget me," she says "Not that you could" she adds, laughing. I stop writing and look up from the notebook. She's smiling, but looks concerned. I nod my head, and try to reassure her "You're on the first page." It doesn't work. She's worried, but trying to hide it. I can tell. She always plays with the ring when she's worried.
By Jan Smolaga5 years ago in Humans
