It’s time again to write a story in six sentences exactly. Link your story through Denise’s GirlieOntheEdge blog, then read, write, repeat. The word of the week is random. (I wonder if Denise chose that word purposely and methodically or….) Oh, despite the rules I am entering with a 12-pack, two sixes.
Uber Possibilities by D. Avery
Though he could pick his wife’s laugh out from among the others, growing louder now with drink, from his vantage point across the room he noted how alike they all were, himself included; all tan and personal trainer-fit, their cocktail party clothes their uniforms, all of high rank.
Alike in background and ambition he wondered at how they’d paired off in college, speculated that it wouldn’t have made any difference at all if they’d all just been randomly matched. They each would still have ended up with what they thought they wanted, with what they now had; good looking, fit, socially acceptable spouses living in lavish showcase homes, their handsome children choosing the finest colleges to attend.
Not one of his dalliances with his friends’ wives had turned out to be an exciting distraction after all. The affairs that both he and his wife had they’d easily overlooked, understood as much as forgiven, for each could be seen as an honest mistake, an understandable case of mistaken identity.
He watched his wife accept another drink from Biff, laughing and leaning in, and wished he was stirred to jealousy. The caterer, clearing stray glasses and plates, her night almost over, interrupted his thoughts.
“Shouldn’t you be over there with the others?”
“Oh, no, I’m not with them,” he quipped, marveling at the unpainted lips of her bemused smile, the crow’s feet at her green eyes, the wisp of gray at her auburn temples. “I’m just the uber driver, here to give you a ride home.”
“I’ll tell you what, uber-man,” she said laughing, “let’s skip the ride home and even what it is you think might could happen there, and go right to breakfast; meet me at the Eggstraordinary Diner at eight tomorrow morning, and you can tell me all about ubering— or any random topic.”
And he knew he would join this woman for breakfast, would enjoy conversation with her as his wife slept late in their shade-darkened master suite, knew that, finally, things might never be the same.