I've written a novel which I'm obsessively polishing these days. But at some point when I got bored with obsessively polishing, I wrote this passage as a distraction. It starts and ends here, and I don't know where it's going or if it's going anywhere. But I kind of smell what it's stepping in, ya know? Where do you think I should take it? Let's play Choose Your Own Adventure: Found Fiction Passages! Leave me your ideas!
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Her finger throbbed from all the scrolling and clicking.
Scroll. Click. Scroll. Click. Scroll. Click.
Brenda let out a sigh of… resignation? Disbelief? Irritation? She wasn’t sure what.
It has come to this.
One final Wheat Thin cowered in the darkest corner of the cracker box, afraid for its life. Brenda, without averting her swollen eyes from the monitor, snaked her free hand into the box, then into the plastic lining, then down to the powdery edges of the bag.
Brenda popped the cracker in her mouth, savoring the salty side on her tongue, letting it turn half to mush before chewing the balance ten times and swallowing. She had a system for eating Wheat Thins.
Brenda had a system for everything.
She brushed her stick-straight brown hair in three calculated stages – ends first, then nape to end, then crown to end.
She drove to work the same way every day, never stopping to try a cup of gourmet coffee from the shop a block away, never detouring along the beach to catch the sunrise.
She cataloged her DVDs alphabetically on a plain balsa bookshelf, starting with numerical titles at the front – 9 1/2 weeks, 12 Monkeys, 13 Going on 30.
She got her period on the same day every month, which she identified on her day planner with a small red Sharpie dot. She used the exact same number of flushable, super-absorbent tampons each time. Ten. She bought them in packs of 60 so she’d be covered for exactly half the year.
Brenda had control of everything. Almost.
Jonas Bowder, 34.
She hovered the mouse over his black and white photo. He looked… puffy. Puffy was a nicer way to put it. If she thought of him as puffy, as having inflamed lymph nodes or an allergy to bees or something, she could avoid the fact that he was just fat. He wore rectangular plastic glasses and a suede jacket and a blue polo shirt. He had a shaved head, clearly a preemptive move because he was going bald. But he skillfully redirected attention with a goatee.
Brenda scrunched her nose.
What kind of name is Jonas?
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(Copyright me, freaks)