Writing Prompt #7: Love Lost Requiem

WARNING: Strong language and adult themes.

When the two men in uniform came to April’s door with that letter, she knew.

“Ma’am, we are so sorry for your…”

No. No this can’t be happening. He was JUST deployed.

Alarm clock. She wakes up and sighs. April gets out of bed slowly, takes a swig of the fifth she had from the night before, and lights a cigarette. She looks at the clock again- 6:53pm. She gets up and stumbles to the bathroom, tripping over her pants and falling against the bookshelf knocking Paul’s picture onto the floor, shattering the glass. She stumbles back and nicks her foot.

“Goddammit!” She bends over and looks at the scratch- it stings but it’s not deep. She then pulls Paul’s Marine photo out of the shards. She looks at it, strokes his cheek, and places it back onto the bookshelf.

Twenty minutes later she slightly limps out the door… she looks at her cell- and then breaks out into a sprint towards the bus stop- only to see the bus driving away in the distance. “Wait! WAIT!” Futile.

With a air-punch sigh, she pulls out her phone and dials.

“Gwen? Hi. Yeah, it’s me. Can you swing by my street and pick me up? Yeah the bus. No, just head in this direction, I’m already walking. Thanks sweetie. Bye.”

Ten minutes later she’s shotgun in Gwen’s station wagon. Gwen is putting on her eye makeup while she’s driving while April stares out the window. The rhythmic deep bass courses through April's body, still thinking about That Day.

“...And then I tell that little prick the next time he wants to do that kinky anal shit, he better offer more than a fucking twenty.” Gwen flaps between gum chomps, “I mean the nerve of that little prick, if he wants to do that he can go down to Blue Balls by the truckstop… right?”

Gwen looks over at April. “Right?”

“Huh? Oh yeah, Blue balling those pricks, real deuschbags.”

“Bitch, you ain’t listening to a word I’m saying.”

“Oh, sorry. Rough night.”

“Well, anyway, just make sure you make them buy the condoms off of you, those cheap fuckers try to recycle and it’s fucking gross. That is if you’re servicing off the clock.”

April turns to Gwen.

“Stop the car.”


“Stop the fucking car.”

Gwen stops and April gets out. She leans down and looks at Gwen.

“I’m not a whore. Tell Amos I’m done.”

“Suit yourself, but he ain’t gunna be happy.”

April smiles, and pats the door.

“I’m sorry Gwen, it’s not you.”
Gwen smiles.  “No worries, babe. You’re smarter than me.”

Gwen shifts the three on the tree and drives off.

April looks around, it’s getting dark now, and now she’s on the edge of town. What the hell was she thinking? She pulls out her cell and the battery flashing red… then suddenly dies.

She looks around- A truckstop diner. Fucking perfect. Maybe they might have an old payphone there.