January 2nd is a holiday in Switzerland, but our village boulangerie/tea room was open. Because almost no one was around we took the sentence, "He hoped he was smiling" from a novel as our prompt for the writing exercise.
Rick's Free Write
Another year without a significant other on his arm and the inevitable jibes from his co-workers, especially women and especially his boss's wife.
He detested Maribella. It was her daddy's wealth that enabled Boss Snead to run the clothing company -- the one that paid Asian workers pennies while charging thousands to customers.
They didn't spend the difference on advertising he knew because he was the one making the ad purchases. And he was good at it, great even analyzing the young female consumer's mind and hitting their hot buttons through influencers and social media.
And why if he was such a student of young women didn't he have some arm candy tonight? Or any night? Maybe he was over-analytical or over-critical.
"Jeffrey, Darling," said Maribella, putting her bony-fingered hand on his shoulder, "Your winter collection campaign is absolutely brilliant."
As he cringed inwardly, he felt something wet on his leg and looked down to see the boss's wife Pomeranian peeing on his ankle. He hoped he was smiling.
D-L's Free Write
Jackson hoped he was smiling. There were no mirrors in the French restaurant.
His parents, sister and her fiancé were sitting on the other side of the room, which wasn't all that large. He would be the fifth wheel, with a chair pulled up on the end of a table for four.
It was his job to pretend he was happy about the engagement and the wedding next year.
He was afraid Bob would ask him to be the best man.
They'd played together as children, but in high school Bob had become a sports star. Jackson was in the band and orchestra.
Music was his life. How pathetic was that?
Sure, his parents were proud of his Berklee scholarship and his joining the Boston Sympathy, but they were nudging (read nagging) to find a "nice" girl.
He had never told them his secret. It would not go well if he did, he was sure.
His mother spotted him and waved.
He checked his face muscles for a smile, walked around a waiter carrying a tray of fancy French food, to greet his parents, his sister and his secret lover, her fiancé.
Note: D-L Nelson is a fiction writer www.dlnelsonwriter.com and Rick Adams is an aviation journalist with a weekly newsletter https://aviationvoices.com
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