Continued from scene fifty-three
Karen was standing in front of the mirror when I returned home later that night. And before I could say anything, she asked, “Can you see it?” holding up her shirt. “I’m getting fat.”
I thought long and hard before answering.
“You’re still looking good, babe. And that stomach of yours is as flat as ever,” I said cleverly.
I should have thought longer.
“So you think I’ll be ugly when it’s not flat?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Then what did you say?”
I was like a deer in headlights from that point on, not knowing what to do as she cried, yelled, and screamed before slamming the bathroom door.
As the picture next to it precariously hung from the wall, I pulled out my phone. “Olivia, this is Christian. Could you come over? I’ve got a little situation here.”
“Don’t worry, I will be there shortly,” she replied.
“Should I go over to the door and comfort her?”
“Sweetie, it’s best you step outside for a while.”
And so I did. All the way to the abandoned farmhouse, where I stuck an old rusty screw between two blocks, opening the bar’s door. After pouring a shot, I held the glass high. The old man wasn’t so crazy after all.
Shift is an online work of fiction.
This is the first draft of my manuscript Shift – Don’t judge a book by its cover. I am writing it online in sections as I go. So feel free to comment, good or bad. If you see mistakes, point them out.
The story centers around shapeshifting.
I’m currently working on chapter nine.
Timothy French 