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Monday, September 21, 2015


Welcome! The word prompt today is "grim". We're back with PREDICTABLE LOVE, an evolving story. Return to the glorious Tuesday Tales writers with the link below. Thank you for stopping by. 


   Archie Baldwin strolled by Jory’s desk at the newspaper and stopped. He leaned on the corner.
   “After that piece on the soldier, I suppose you don’t want to go out with tame old me anymore,” he said, making eye contact for a few seconds before lowering his gaze.
   “I’m simply writing him letters, Archie. I wouldn’t know him if I fell over him.” She turned her attention back to her computer and continued typing.
   “Does that mean you’ll go to the concert with me?”
She looked up, her lips compressed into a grim frown, and nodded.
Archie leaned over to whisper in her ear. “And spend the night?”
   “Nope,” she replied, turning her attention back to her work.
“What’s the point?” He face flushed. “I spend all this money on you and you won’t sleep with me.”
“Keep your voice down.”
“It’s the truth. I’m the one who should be ashamed, not you.”
“So it’s about money? Doesn’t that make me a hooker if I sleep with you?” She drew her gaze from the keyboard to meet his and cocked and eyebrow.
“You twist everything I say. Forget the concert. I’m done, Jory. I like you well enough, but this celibacy thing. It’s not for me.”
   Wounded by his words, she sat back. “Just out for sex, eh? Forget it, Archie. Goodbye.” She made a shooing gesture with her hand.
   “You don’t get it. Fine. We’re done.” He stormed off in a huff.
   Gladys in the advertising department peered over the smoky glass partition at Jory. A sharp glance from the journalist sent the nosy older woman back to her computer.
   Jory sat back and sighed. Thanks for breaking up Archie and me, Trent. Now I’ll have to spend every night alone. She pulled her pen from its perch, shoved into the bun on the top of her head. She gnawed on the end, then threw it on the desk.
   She chuckled to herself. “Actually a night spent with Archie is the same as being alone,” she mumbled.
   He walked by, stopped and retraced his steps. “I can’t fire you. Sexual harassment and all. Besides, you’re good. But watch your step.  You give me one good reason and you’re outta here.”
He sported a smug grin she’d never seen before as he headed for the front door.
   Can he fire me? Maybe. Screw him. Her brow furrowed as she returned to typing.