by Michael Seese
Once again, I got my Janet Reid entry in just under the wire. I'd written most of it Friday. But I found it hard to find the time to finish "properly" on Saturday. This week, we had to incorporate
in the traditional 100-word story. I suppose I'll call it Chillin'
It's snowing again. Outside, only silence, save for the blowing wind.
Sitting by the fireplace, a glass of cabernet in my hand, I couldn't help but miss her.
No Internet. No phone service. This cabin seemed like the ideal place to rekindle our relationship. Instead, her outlook quickly degraded from chilly to frigid. The minute the door closed she lit into me.
“Is this your idea of a joke? Because I'm not laughing.” “I'm freezing my ass off.”
They won't find her until spring, when the ice has grown weary of her, too. And by then, I'll be long gone.
Let me state for the record that I never have, nor do I plan to, take my wife to a deserted cabin in the woods.
And please let me know what you think of Chillin'.