I guess I took a little un-(pre)scheduled break from Mix Tapes & Scribbles, but I'm back now, with a little story excerpt!
One of my writing goals for the month is to finish the first draft of the short story I'm currently working on. It's, well, short, but I think it's just about ready for me to send it along to the friend I promised a first read. A lot of the content isn't safe for the blog (NSFB?), but here's a little piece for you:
Rachel turned her eyes down to her destroyed boot-cut jeans, faded and thin and barely hanging onto her slender hips. Clothing always seemed to wrap her body so casually, the thin cotton just flowing off her bones. She fingered the hem of her peasant top and glanced down the street, scanning for the bus. She caught a man in a pickup truck staring at her while he waited for the light and quickly averted her eyes.
The breeze picked up and she could feel it, just barely cool, on every inch of her skin. Her hair wrapped around her shoulders, flitted across her eyes. The light changed and suddenly the wave of cars had vanished. She glanced down the street again. Nothing. Restless, she half-jogged across the intersection to the City Paper kiosk on the other side of the street. Her long fingers picked over the first few copies, finally resting on one that felt right—fresh off the press, no abused edges.
As she rolled the paper in half and slid it into her bag, the bus appeared several blocks down the street and she picked up the pace and lengthened her strides back to her stop. As the bus approached she plunged her arm deep into the bag at her hip, slipping her fingers past her cell phone, an eyeliner pencil, lip balm, tiny sketchbook, bag of vine charcoal. Just in time, her fingers connected with the wallet at the bottom and, without removing it, she slid her bus pass out and pressed it into the palm of her hand.
The bus was full, but she didn’t mind standing. She brushed her hair away from her eyes and searched for an open spot, grabbing the handrail just as the bus jolted through the intersection. The air felt stale and chilly—one of those mild almost-fall days when the driver still turned on the air conditioning. Rachel shifted her weight, letting one hip jut out, and gazed absently at her waistline. She relished the freedom of the bus, the ability to go anywhere she liked without taking her own two feet off the ground.
