Hopping on the train!

Hello!

I really need to do something about my lack of posting here. Honestly, I’m not sure how to get back into it. Things have been busier than usual between work and my hobbies (guess who’s thinking of becoming a Zumba instructor?), and that’s made it difficult to participate in my usual prompts. On the bright side, I am still working on Withered Legacy. I also finished a short piece for OWS Ink’s summer lit journal!

So here we are with my first shot at my own prompt, Friday Flash Fiction Train. And because I was struggling with coming up with an idea for it, I’m combining it with Two Word Tuesday.

~~~

“Do you always write such boring work?” The TA’s words cut through me like a chainsaw. He looks up at me from the book – my book – with eyes colder than steel. He pushes his glasses up his nose, still watching me. Waiting for my reaction.

I snap and reach across the desk before snatching the book from him. “Fine. I’ll rewrite it then. To be less boring.”

It’s rude, but I don’t wait for a response. This week has been worse than most and this is the last thing I need. I struggle not to cry in front of him, as the stress finally reaches its breaking point. Despite my abrupt head start, he still manages to cut me off before I can exit his office.

“Dana, wait. It was a joke!” He’s all smiles now, the apology in his eyes as the steel cracks under my reaction. “I was kidding. I’m sorry – I didn’t think you’d take it that hard.”

“Are you f…kidding me?” I’m nowhere near relief, and it’s everything I can do to keep myself from reacting even worse.

“It’s great! I’ve only made a few suggestions. One more round of editing and you can submit it for review.” Still, his words do nothing to appease my annoyance and the sudden bout of tears waiting to let loose. “I’m sorry, really. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“What exactly did you think was going to happen?” I narrow my eyes at him, wondering if he’s already forgotten how stressful this coursework is. He was in my shoes last year. How could he possibly think this is okay?  “Or was your TA a sadist, too?”

Maybe I crossed a line, but I can’t bring myself to care. I’ve known Grant for years. He should know better than to think I’d be okay with a joke like that, even under ideal circumstances.

“Sometimes, yeah.” He smirks and it does nothing to better my mood. “Can I make it up to you? Honestly, I feel really bad for upsetting you like this.”

“No.” I adjust my satchel before opening the door and walking out.

~~~

As writers, we all know that initial flash of anger when someone just insults and dismisses our work. At least, I do. Let’s hope others hop on the train!

As always, think happy thoughts!

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