An Excerpt from my “Grocer and Writer” Stories

I’ve ultimately decided that my “Grocer and Writer” Stories in their entirety were too sinful and offensive to display publically.  So, I took them down.

However, there is one piece from those said stories that is pure and innocent enough to publically share without offending God or others.

That piece is the piece detailing how my two characters meet each other.

I feel that I can teach many good things if I put that piece on display.

So, without further ado, here it is:

 

The Young Man’s Perspective:

I sit alone on a park bench and write in my composition book. Creating love stories somehow fulfills my life and I firmly believe that doing so will bring good to me someday, I can almost feel it. There is something about how the Autumn sky, cold weather, and my unique surroundings all set the perfect mood for being creative. I am deeply focused on my work and know I should get as much of it done as possible. Today I am off, but tomorrow I have to be putting up grocery stock at seven o’clock in the morning. It will be long and grueling hours, so writing these stories is my only escape from that cold hard reality. Suddenly, a cute young lady walks by. She looks at me and smiles. I smile back, then resume my writing. She walks away for a little while but, then, wait, she’s pacing up and down the cement path near me. I can’t help but adore her as she repeatedly passes by-she is so beautiful. I now realize that we were the only two human beings in the park, everyone else is enjoying Thanksgiving with their families. I look up at her and she smiles sweetly.

“Hi,” She says.

“Hello,” I reply.

“Could I sit with you?”

“Sure, I guess.”

Smiling, even more, she continues, “You’re cute.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Do you think I am also cute or am I too fat?”

“I think you’re very beautiful and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Good. You make me feel special!”

There’s a very brief silence, but then I have an escalating concern, so I say, “I’m very happy that you want to sit with me, but don’t you have a family to go home to?”

“I do, but my parents are fighting like cats and dogs and Thanksgiving was canceled.”

“That is awful. I am so sorry you have to go through that,” I reply, then awkwardly hug her, just in an attempt to give her comfort.

She looks at me, then asks, “What about you? Don’t you have any family?”

“I do, but they’re all far away from me. I can’t afford to travel to them and they can’t afford to travel to me.”

“Do you work?”

“Yes. I’m a stocker at The Downtown Grocer, it’s a God awful job. I can do so much better if only I had the chance.”

“How can you do better?”

“With this,” I show her my composition book and continue, “I am trying to become established as a writer.”

“Let me read.”

“Sure,” I say, then hand my book to her.

She begins to read and is smiling from ear to ear.

“These are beautiful, I love them. Could I borrow your pen?”

“What for?”

“I want to write something for you,” She says, blushing.

“Here you go,” I say, then give her my pen.

She is smiling brightly as she writes, then she shows me. It’s a ten digit number.

“That is for you.”

I too am blushing, but then I ask, “How old are you, anyway?”

“It’s impolite to ask a girl her age, but that’s all right because I think you are nice. You’re cute, too, but I told you that already.”

“So, I will re-state my question; how old are you?”

“I’m seventeen; if you must know.”

“You’re young.”

“I may be young, but you seem like a sweet guy.” Now she gave me a peck on my cheek.

“You know I am twenty-two and I can get in plenty of trouble.”

“Wow, I thought you were my age. I still like you, though.” There is a brief pause, but then she continues “You don’t have to worry about getting in trouble because I won’t make you do anything illegal.”

“Are you asking me out?” I ask.

“Yes.” She humbly replies, blushing.

There’s an awkward silence now; but then she asks again, “So, will you be mine?”

I stare at her for just a moment. She looks at me as if she would cry. I see a potential for love and companionship, but I also see the potential for legal trouble. She’s continuing to stare longingly at me and I am beginning to look at her with affection as well. I want to make her happy because no one else has ever paid this kind of attention to me before. Here’s a girl who enjoys my writing and for some reason or another has fallen for me, albeit unusually quickly. No other women or girls were ever interested in me, because of my personal quirks constant awkwardness. She seems to see past them. Finally an opportunity to love and be loved!

I will tell her. I must tell her, “Yes. I’ll be yours because love knows no numbers. Forgive me for making you wait, I’m just nervous that’s all.”

“Don’t worry; I forgive you. Just know that you don’t have to be nervous around me.”

“I’ll try not to be.”

She’s joyfully smiling and kissing me with passion. I kiss her in return.

“Could I have your phone number as well?” She asks me.

“Sure,” I reply, then call it out.

Instantly; she programs it into her phone and kisses me again. I program hers into my phone as well. We sit on the park bench for hours and I read to her. I know she will give me plenty of inspiration for some time to come, maybe even forever. Finally, the sun begins to set and the Mercury begins to drop.

I ask her with concern “Shouldn’t you be home?”

“I guess. Could you walk me home?”

“I’ll drive you home instead.”

Her eyes light up and she kisses me. We walk to my old Toyota and I take directions from her until we arrive at her parents’ home in the suburbs. I park in front of her parents’ driveway and opened the car door for her.

She gives me a long goodnight kiss and says “Call me.” Afterward, she walks inside and waves at me from the window.

I go home and sleep, feeling happy and fulfilled. My writing indeed brought good into my life, just as I had firmly believed.

 

The Girl’s Perspective:

My parents are fighting again. My dad always tries to be a good provider but I think he works too much. My mom resents the fact that he puts his career before her and uses pills to fill the void that his affections once occupied. My dad loathes my mom’s pill habit and avoids her like the Plague.

Earlier on in the school year, I made excellent marks. I was even an honor student. Now that my mom is always loaded and my dad is gone for weeks at a time, I cannot get a ride to school. There is no bus service to the private school I attend and I would endure hellish torment if I attended the public high school in my district. So, I dropped out. My dad is slightly bothered, but he doesn’t do anything. My mom doesn’t care at all.

It’s Thanksgiving and my dad is home, for today at least. You would think we could celebrate as a family, but my parents are at each other’s throats. It may be cold and sunny outside but there is a nasty storm brewing inside. I do not want to be hit by their flying debris, so I go to the park. I watch the brown Sycamore leaves fly around in the breeze and go exploring.

Suddenly; I see him, sitting there, writing something in a composition book. He’s greatly focused on his work. I watch him for just a little bit. He’s very cute so I smile at him. He smiles back. I walk past him, feeling giddy. He actually noticed me. I wonder what he is like. I have no one at all. My family is a mess as I have already said. Could he possibly be a friend, maybe even a lover? I surely need love in my life.

So I begin to pace up and down the walking path, looking at him each time I pass by. He notices me.

So, I say to him, “Hi.”

“Hello,” He replies.

“Could I sit with you?”

“Sure, I guess,” I am so happy, he is actually letting me sit with him!

“You’re cute,” I tell him as I smile from ear to ear.

“Thanks, I guess.”

That’s all?

Maybe he isn’t attracted to me. I wish I could be skinny like all the other girls I know. There’s only one way to find out what he really thinks about me.

I’ll ask, “Do you think I’m also cute or am I too fat?”

“I think you’re very beautiful and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

He is so sweet to tell me that. I want him even more now! “Good. You make me feel special!”

There is a quick silence, but then “I’m very happy that you want to sit with me, but don’t you have a family to go home to?”

“I do, but my parents are fighting like cats and dogs and Thanksgiving was canceled.” What will he think of me now?

“That’ awful. I’m so sorry you have to go through that.” Wait, what is he doing now? He hugged me!

“What about you? Don’t you have any family?”

He replies “I do, but they’re all far away from me. I can’t afford to travel to them and they can’t afford to travel to me.”

Why can’t he afford to visit his family and they can’t afford to visit him either?

So, I ask him, “Do you work?”

“Yes. I’m a stocker at The Downtown Grocer, it’s a God awful job. I can do so much better if only I had the chance.”

“How can you do better?”

“With this.” He shows me his composition book and continues, “I am trying to become established as a writer.”

That is so awesome. My dad knows people who could get him published. Maybe he would love me if I could make him successful.

I would love to see what he writes about as I always enjoyed English classes.

“Let me read.”

“Sure,” He says and hands me the book. He actually hands me the book.

I begin to read. These love stories he writes fill me with all kinds of wonderful feelings. Oh my; I am now blushing.

“These are beautiful. I love them!”

I know what I’m going to do; I’ll give him my phone number.

So I ask him, “Could I borrow your pen?”

“What for?”

“I want to write something for you.” I wonder if he can see me blushing? My face feels so warm.

“Here you go.”

Quickly; I write down the ten digits and say, “That is for you.”

He’s blushing. Now he is slightly distressed. Did I come off too strong?

He then asks me leerily, “How old are you, anyway?”

Why is he asking me that? I know how I’ll handle this. “It’s impolite to ask a girl her age, but that’s all right because I think you are nice. You’re cute, too, but I told you that already.”

He seems unfazed, then says, “So, I will re-state my question; how old are you?”

Humbly, I reply “I’m seventeen if you must know.”

“You’re young,” He tells me cautiously. Well, of course, I am young. He is young too, right?

“I may be young, but you seem like a sweet guy.” I know what I’ll do. I’m going to kiss him-just a quick peck on the cheek.

He is shocked and seems cautious.

“You know I am twenty-two and I can get in plenty of trouble.”

Oh no, I hope I didn’t blow it. Let me see if I can salvage this, “Wow, I thought you were my age. I still like you, though.” I tell him. There is now, a silence, so I continue “You don’t have to worry about getting in trouble because I won’t make you do anything illegal.”

“Are you asking me out?”

“Yes.”

It is quiet now. I want him so much.

“So, will you be mine?” I ask.

He’s now staring at me. What is he thinking right now? If he rejects me; my heart will be broken. Can he see the tears I am holding back?

Finally, he says, “Yes. I’ll be yours because love knows no numbers. Forgive me for making you wait, I’m just nervous that’s all.”

“Don’t worry; I forgive you. Just know that you don’t have to be nervous around me.”

“I’ll try not to be.”

He still seems leery. I am going to kiss him, this time I won’t hold back. Oh my, now he is kissing me too. My heart is singing!

I want his number, too. Let’s see if I can get it from him, “Could I have your phone number as well?”

“Sure.” Oh my, he is actually calling it out. Now we’re programming each others’ numbers into our phones. Slowly our faces and lips are meeting. We’re going to kiss yet again! I hope this never ends. I snuggle next to him on the bench and he reads to me. We sit there for hours until the sun sets and the temperature drops.

“Shouldn’t you be home?”

I know I should and I had better get there before my parents realize I am gone. So I ask him, “I guess. Could you walk me home?”

“I’ll drive you home instead.”

We walk to his car, an old Toyota. It starts up perfectly, despite its age. I wish I could somehow get him a better car. I know if I can help get published through one of my dad’s connections, he would be rich and then he would love me for it. I think he would love me anyway or at least that is my hope. I sit next to him and give him directions to my parents’ house. He holds me with his right arm. We are now in my parents’ driveway.

I give him a long goodnight kiss and say “Call me.” Oh, how I hope and pray that he will. If not; I will call him. I look at him from the window and wave as he drives off into the night…

Thank you for reading.  That wasn’t so bad, was it?

I hope you, the reader, walk away with learning something, quite possibly learning that everyone deserves to love and be loved in return!

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