Creative writing · indie authors · indie writers · Short stories · weekly fiction · Writing prompts

Exercising the craft—May 22, 2017

By Ekta R. Garg

Prompt: “Pack your things; this place is not your home.”


“Pack your things; this place is no longer your home.”

“But can’t we at least—”

“Nope. Just get your stuff out. I don’t want to hear anything.”

“Aren’t you the least bit interested in trying to work this out?”

“Work this out? Work this out?! That’s ironic, coming from you. If you’d really wanted to work things out, you wouldn’t have cheated on me. That is completely the opposite of working things out.”

“Okay, yes, I cheated, but, I mean—I mean, this last year has been so hard.”

“And it hasn’t been hard on me?”

“No, of course it has, I’m not saying that.”

“Then what are you saying?”

“I’m saying…I’m saying…I don’t think…all right, it was wrong. I was wrong. I get that, and I take complete ownership of it. But—”

“There’s no ‘but’ when you take ownership for something. You just do it, and that’s it. You don’t get to qualify what you said by adding a disclaimer.”

“I was just going to—”

“What, find a way to justify sleeping with someone else?”

“No, I…I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

“Is that it?”

“Yes. Yes, that’s it. I’m wrong, and I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done it.”

“Okay. I’m listening.”

“I shouldn’t have done it, and I wish I could un-do it. But I can’t.”

“If you’re sitting here so full of regret now, then what made you do it in the first place?”

“I was…lonely. I just felt like…I mean, we were so far away from each other. I would come home every night from work, and you would be sitting there on the damn computer, and—”

“What, you think the bills are going to pay themselves? That ‘damn computer,’ as you call it, helps us earn a living so we can, I don’t know, take showers and have heat in the winter and eat.”

“Oh, right, and you’re not screwing around on Facebook or checking out idiotic cat videos.”

“Everyone wanders around online. It’s called taking a break.”

“It’s called avoiding the issue.”

“Yeah, okay, so I was avoiding the issue. At least I didn’t go out and find some random person to have sex with while the person I married was sitting at home waiting for me to come back.”


“And we’re back to justifying our actions.”

“I’m not—forget it. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should leave.”

“I’ve taken out a suitcase for you, over there in the guest room. You can come back tomorrow morning to get the rest of your stuff.”

“Are you for…you really don’t want me to go.”

“I’m sorry, am I speaking French? Maybe we’ve had our problems. Maybe I haven’t always been here when you needed someone. But I’ve never, and I wouldn’t ever, cheat on you just because I couldn’t figure a way out. I can’t share a home with someone who would cross that line. So, just pack your things and go. This. Is. No Longer. Your home.”

“I…okay, fine.”


Almost an hour later, Danny closed the door behind the woman he thought was the love of his life, sank into the sofa they’d bought just two years ago, and buried his face in his hands.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s