Sunday, February 26, 2012

The Best Day

So I was on Terribleminds the other day, and, yet again, got inspired by Chuck's Flash Fiction Challenge: to write a story in five sentences. I entered his contest but, unfortunately, thought of a better entry after I'd already submitted one. So here's the better one.

She was walking away for good. And it was the best part of my day.

I crumpled the eleventh beer can of the past two hours, my head beginning to turn without moving, my thoughts like a flood, uncontainable, going wherever they wanted, free range chickens pecking at my brain. 

As I halfway fell onto my bed, my knees on the steady floor, I clutched the sheets that still held her scent, like I was ivy clinging to a wall, unable to stand on its own; and I watered my handholds silently.

It was the best day.

And then there's the other version...:

She was walking away, and it was the best thing that had happened all day.
The best thing.

He was sure of it as he haphazardly crinkled the eleventh emptied beer can of the past hour or so.

The best, most amazing thing.

He was positively ecstatic as he tumbled halfway onto his bed, his knees on the ground, his hands clutching the bedsheets like ivy clamped onto a wall, too weak to stand on its own; and his eyes watered them silently.

Feel free to tell me which you prefer in the comments, because I'm stumped.

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