I’m trying something new. Every day I’ll write for 10 minutes. I won’t limit what I write to any particular thing. It could be fiction, poetry, an essay, whatever. The goal is to write and then publish and share it. I need to get over my fear of publishing and I need to build a writing (and publishing) habit. This is my first in what I hope will be a streak of many. Wish me luck.

Update: this is the first part of the story. To read part two, go here.

The man was cold, but his feet more so than anything. His shoes were old and water seeped in between the gaps in the soles. Damn cheap sneakers, he thought. They don’t make shit the way they used to. He knew he wasn’t wrong, but he also knew he wasn’t right. Things change and some of it was good, and some of it was bad. Like what was happening on the other side of the window he was looking through.

He and Andrea were in love once. The man was still in love with her. The man with her now had better as hell be in love with her. Otherwise, Archie was going to slice his taint wide open. The knife in the inside pocket of his sopping wet jacket dragged the garment further down and made it even more useless than it was already. It was from a Cutco set Archie bought for Andrea as an anniversary gift. She didn’t appreciate the gift. That was not unusual. She rarely appreciated how much Archie cared for her.

Cold-hearted. That’s what he thought of her. But, from what he was seeing, her other parts weren’t anywhere near as cold.

The amorous couple finished their lovemaking. Archie looked at his watch. Forty-five minutes; I remember when we used to go all night. Those were the days. The other man went into the bathroom. Archie went around to the French doors at the back of the house, the ones they never locked, and entered what used to be his home.

The kitchen floor was squeaky, so Archie removed his shoes and left them by the backdoor. He sneaked to the bedroom and looked in. Andrea lay on the bed, her eyes shut. The man was still in the bathroom; Archie heard the shower. He glided to the side of the bed.

Andrea looked so beautiful. Archie removed the knife from his jacket pocket. His hand froze over her, ready to strike. He looked down at her some more. Tears came to his eyes. He still loved her more than anything.

The shower stopped. It was now or never. Archie looked back down at Andrea. A tear dribbled down his chin and landed on her cheek. Andrea looked up. She was confused at first until she saw the knife. But she said nothing and made no motion. Andrea just looked into the eyes of her soon-to-be ex-husband. He stared down into her eyes, tears continuing to roll down his cheeks. Her eyes were completely dry. Not even this desperate act could elicit any passion from her for him. Archie lifted the knife and poised to strike.

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