out of her way to make Michaelia’s life miserable, had gotten engaged, showing off her huge rock to anyone who walked by her desk, talking about her wedding plans, thumbing through bridal magazines instead of doing her work. Of course, no one minded; Tracie was beautiful and the beautiful people got whatever they wanted. And this was just what Michaelia needed, a reminder of her failures, a reminder of what she could never have. A reminder she would never be pretty, never be the size two that all the men wanted.
It was Friday, finally. The end of this horrendous workweek brought a hot, muggy, humid day, with gray skies threatening rain. She was late for her train, per the usual, but she made it, sweat dripping down, soaking her clothes, including the awful sensation of sweat between her legs. Nothing was worse than sweating there.
The sights outside the train’s window hardly ever changed, with the exception of weather; instead of snow, there would be mud, or dust, or piles of leaves, all depending on the season. Today, it was dust, thick, coating everything along the tracks. The click-clack of the wheels lulled her into an almost trance, Tracie’s wedding and the monotonous routine of her days took a back seat to day dreams, silly dreams of winning the lottery and retiring, or hell, winning the lottery and having plastic surgery so she would be beautiful. Being able to walk into any store, buy what she wanted, look gorgeous, have men falling at her feet. Dreaming of the places she would go, outside of the city, the world her oyster … whatever that meant.
The cessation of movement and the whistling of the train told her the train had stopped at her station, just like it had the thousands of times before and undoubtedly, will do thousands of times in her future. She headed home, grateful that the gray skies hadn't opened up quite yet. Greeting her at the door was her faithful companion Bodie, her ever-loving mutt. She dropped her bag, grabbed his leash so he could do his business, getting back to safety just before the rain began in torrents. She quickly read her mail, picked up the few things she hadn’t gotten to before work, started laundry. Ah, another scintillating Friday night we have here, don’t we? She mused to herself while she cleaned a few things in her tiny apartment; one thing about a small studio apartment, not much to clean. A simple dinner of a sandwich and soup followed by boring TV was the plan for the rest of the night. After never having said a word to another human being since she left work, she went to bed. Sleep would not come, so she watched the rain run down the window, listened to the storm outside. She lay there in her dark and silent bedroom, Bodie snoring away on the floor next to the bed. The one comfort she had was Bodie, who loved her no matter what she looked like, no matter what kind of mood she was in. After a while the clouds parted and the moon came out, creating shadows through the leaves of the tree outside her window. Staring at the moon, she whispered her one prayer to any deity listening.
Twenty-four hours, that’s all I ask. Twenty-four hours of someone to love me, then I could live out my days happy, living on that one day.
A tear slipped, then another and before she knew it, she was crying, yet again. Something she swore would never happen after the last time, after the millions of last times, the tears came, fueled by the loneliness of nights like tonight. Wanting so much to curl up with someone, or make love while the rain came down. She reached for the tissues and berated herself for falling into the pity party mood again. And what did she know about making love? Just what she read in romance novels and she was sure what those heroines experienced was nothing like real life. But right now, in the dark of night with the smell of fresh rain in the air, she’d take someone just holding her hand. Or someone lying next to her, an arm draped protectively over her. She
Fran Louise
Charlotte Sloan
Douglas E. Schoen, Melik Kaylan
Anonymous
Jocelynn Drake
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Julie Garwood
Debbie Macomber
Undenied (Samhain).txt
B. Kristin McMichael