A. writes creative nonfiction and fiction across a range of genres.
It hasn't quite been two years since we last saw each other. Not yet. Two years ago, this month we spent our days together - and most of our nights.
By A.2 years ago in Humans
The bar was loud and crowded and Alex worried that he and Liz wouldn't even get a seat. He'd parked just around the corner on the street - but he'd had to walk a good bit. Liz had cancelled twice before, so he was worried she wouldn't make it.
By A.2 years ago in Fiction
"I love the fuck out of you." That's what she said. Sitting at a large conference table in the most comfortable chair. She looked right at him and told him she loved the fuck out of him.
I've been thinking about you a lot lately. A lot. I mean, every single day. I wake up and think of you. I go to bed and think of you. I write about you. When I'm walking at night and see a shooting star, I think of you - and wish for "us" again. A new version of us, a better version.
I stood in my closet. Just stood there. Holding my phone. Completely and utterly paralyzed. I'd just called a friend and he hadn't answered. So, when I saw an incoming call on my phone, I figured it was him. Almost answered without looking.
You sent a message. It was loud and it was clear and it was ignored. Not intentionally, ignored, though. I would sit on your couch and listen to the songs. And you chose the songs. You poured the drinks. You listened to my words. And you lamented my lack of action.
I went to the meeting because I was told I had some problems. Well, I had one very pressing problem. But, really, I had a TON of problems. So, the one I went to the meeting for. This problem? It was the problem of twenty empty bottles of bourbon in my closet.
Be here now. I heard these words this morning. Be here now. And I thought of you. I thought of how you challenged me. Over and over and over again. How you asked me to be present. To be here now. With you.
When we last left our Sugar Daddy, he’d spent a lovely Sunday evening with Kat. Now, two weeks later, he’s seen Primary Sugar Baby a couple of times, but is about to embark on another weekend alone.
By A.3 years ago in Filthy
In case you’ve forgotten, this is how it all happened. There was that day in November. A Friday. We’d been talking for a while, and I’d finally, officially asked you for a date. We were to have coffee. 10 AM.
By A.3 years ago in Humans
She had pale skin and red lips... A deep red. In the pictures, she reminded him... reminded him of the woman who still owned his heart.
He wore a dark grey suit, white shirt, and black tie. It was well into the evening and he smelled faintly of his cologne and a bit like the end of a wildly productive day.