A Love Story
The woman abruptly closed her legs. The man pulled back, his erection rampant.
—What's wrong?
—I just don't want to do this.
—But we done it a hundred times.
—I don't want to do it any more.
—With me, or anyone?
She hesitated long enough for the man to get jealous.
—You've got another man?
—No, I don't think I want any man.
He was on his knees looking down on her naked body. Her breasts were like broken eggs on her chest, her beaver a mask. He started to hate her.
She wanted him to leave.
—Please go.
—I should fuck you until you hurt.
—Please don't. Don't destroy what good we had.
He dressed and slammed the front door as he left.
The sheriff's deputy estimated his car hit the tree at over 100 mph.
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Author's Note
An old story.
Other stories by Daniel Harris
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Ouch. I feel like I've tried to write this story, but your version is more affective.*
So it cometh and so it goeth. I guess without true love there's always this risk. *
A stark brutality well captured.
I have to say this brought about a shock to read, and YET (and this is the intriguing part perhaps), the story is obviously about hurt feelings rather than about brute or senseless or gratuitous lack of feeling. Too, it is about the hair of the instant when he may show lenience or remorse or violence. Instead, his car crashes. (Laughed in typing this but not when reading it.) *
I didn't notice suicide in the tag line. That hasn't been established by the story.
*
Thank you Amanda, Mathew, Gary, Ann and Tara for reading and commenting.
Much appreciated.