At one point, I decided that the best way to add value (read that with a dollar sign) to my work was to stop posting story drafts on this blog. I assumed that no one would want to eventually buy a collection of my short stories in print if it could all be read for free on my blog. One could say several bad things about that line of logic, not the least of which is that it makes me sound like a selfish sort of character that cares more about money than writing a good story. And that is not the spirit with which I created this blog.
Thinking about it now, I'm not sure what circumstance would make disappearing from this blog a beneficial move. Nothing good can be said about a blog that hasn't had a new post in over a year. Let's move on.
What follows is all that I have completed from a drastic reworking that I have planned for what may or may not be the very first "short story" that I ever constructed. I have some ideas about where I'd like to take the story but little idea of how to get there. I'm stuck.
I first met Dan after his girlfriend broke up with him. And when I say "after," I mean immediately after. Of course, I didn't know this at the time. I was reading a book in the park, a compact edition of the complete works of Edgar Allen Poe. I think it was pleasant outside, which is only important to know because the park is always a little crowded on days like that. Normally, I’d have enjoyed being around so many people on a beautiful day, but today I got the sad guy. Fantastic.
He was sitting on the bench next to me in the park. It’s not uncommon to sit next to a stranger in the park when the weather is nice, and I wouldn't have noticed Dan if he hadn't been weeping, but he was. Bent over in the seat with his head in his hands. Clearly, he was trying to hide his state, but I could hear the muffled gasps for breath that only occur when you’re swallowing a sob.
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