"Small" writing challenges for my small writing talent. Hotel note pads are the only space allowed. Let's see if I can strip it down and tighten it up to learn something. Improving my skill of weird fiction.
“Was that really twelve?” He thought, while looking at the ex-girlfriend list. It was proof. A sip of coffee warmed his throat as he considered the situation. No idea. Not one reason came to mind why all of them, not one really similar to another, were ex-girlfriends. His interest piqued caty-corner from his table where a couple sat in an orange vinyl booth, obviously anguishing over their own problems. A dash of sugar with a stir. Another sip. It was plain to see. He immediately knew their problem, and the solution. Always the case from his outside view. The observed were easy to figure out, but his list remained. His head shook, lips pursed. No idea why. A caraffe filled the cup as he looked up to a short haired brunette. Hello, number thirteen.
(Author’s notes) Dec. 28th, 2015: Newark, NJ, again. (136 words)
I people watch. How can we not. Once in a while, we see something we can’t take our eyes from. Either we enjoy or hate it, or somethimes we can’t resist the urge to judge.It’s always easy to solve problems for others without knowing any of the inside details. Especially when doing so silently to yourself. So I made an exercise in settings and thoughts that show a glimpse of a character’s personal details.