He’s not coming out. Not tonight, anyway.
I must have known. I think I did, anyway. It’s such a cliché. Late nights. Straight to voicemail.
I haven’t told anyone. Not my sister, not my mom. What would they say? Tell me that they saw it right away, that they saw what kind of man I was marrying? Did they?
Holy crap. It’s raining buckets now. I couldn’t drive through this even if I wanted to.
The windows are fogging. I wonder if this looks suspicious. A rainy motel parking lot, the windows steamed solid.
A man alone in a car.
Great voice–I ache for the poor guy.
What a wicked web we weave……
Good piece.
Nice take on the prompt.
Sorry, brain fog here :( Is the narrator in the car or the husband?
Yes, he’s the husband. And so is the spouse. Two grooms on their wedding cake.
Oh, ok.
I had to read it twice to figure out why he was meeting his husband at a motel, then… Oh, poor guy. He’s not the one his husband is meeting. Really powerful emotional imagery, of being trapped in a car in heavy rain, feeling stuck and powerless as the sky cries, embarrassed or worried that anyone might see him — such a great parallel to what’s happening with his relationship. Well done.
Dear J Hardy,
This doesn’t bode well for either husband. Well written.
Shalom,
Rochelle
Oh yes.. sometimes there are closets in a parking-lot…
Nice bit of anguish. Well done!
A good reminder. Love is love.
A lot of sadness here. Great last line.
Very nicely done. I can feel the pain and the embarrassment. Poor guy!
Poor man. That kind of pain is the same for everyone, no matter the combination. I like the mixture of ‘man in car, alone’ and ‘married that kind of man’. It’s making the feelings human, not gender- stereotypical.