This is an excerpt from a longer piece I’m working on. Short fiction has always been difficult for me to write. It requires tighter construction. Punchier descriptions. I can’t ramble. I was editing and found a story within my story and thought I would share it with you. Enjoy.
The hunger was deep. Beyond stomach. It was enveloping chest, limbs, toes even. The car was cool. The AC blasted and wicked away wet from his arms, his legs, his forehead. The black leather was hot. Could burn a hand easy. But Gil, that’s what he called himself, didn’t touch him when he got in.
“It’s hot out there, man. I don’t know how you’re wearing that thing.”
He nodded to the jacket and smiled. It was the same smile he wore when he opened the passenger door and asked if the man wanted a ride. There was a pause. Gil driving and smiling and the man not saying anything. He knew Gil wanted him to reply, to ease the tension of two strangers in a car on a highway in the middle of nowhere, but his mouth was dry and sticky. He hadn’t had water for hours.
“I saw you come into the dealership.” He looked at the man for a moment, then back on the road. “That was a couple of hours ago at least. Have you been walking the whole time?”
“Eating,” the man said. His tongue smacked sticky as it peeled away from the roof of his mouth. Speckles of white spit covered the dustless black dashboard. Gil looked, his lips turned down and slightly parted revealing white teeth. He glanced at the man’s face, then back at the road again.
“Jealous man. I’m pretty hungry myself. You mind if I stop somewhere and grab a bite?”
The man grunted, and Gil saw that he was nodding a yes.
“Great. That’s great. I’ll keep my eyes peeled, and you just let me know if you see something you like.”
He looked Gil up and down and nodded. He saw something he liked alright, but he would wait until he cooled off first and rest while he watched the black road unfurl ahead.
Shaina, you're making me hungry. I sure wouldn't mind if you made a banquet out of this appetizer...delicious!
I love the style. You can write short fiction. It's in you. The dog can run, you just gotta hold the leash tight. This has some fantastic phrasing.