#FridayKiss: Twitter stories - 2022 edition
Part of the Writing Community on Twitter, #FridayKiss is a weekly writing prompt. The only rules are to use or imply in the story the prompt word and have fun, all within Twitter’s 280 character limit, of course! The following is a collection of my contributions, which include multiple tweets that continue the story but still meet the goal per tweet.
Frost, 12/23/2022
People thought I carried my hurt around like a noose. His made him downright frosty at times. Did I regret tumbling through the sheets with him? Watching his fingertips come to rest on the wooden curio dog I’d carved for him, I realized the hours were worth it.
Familiar, 11/25/2022
Some old crooner comes on the speakers, singing about the familiar places he's see his love. I swirl the wooden stirrer around my coffee cup, cutting a heart into the foam. It's been two weeks since Jack left for his fresh start on the West Coast. Not a word since.
No surprise. Not with the way we left things. Yet another sad ending where I can't say what I want or make my feelings known, even to myself. It's become uncomfortably familiar. So, when the bell chimes over the door, I see a bluster of leaves scatter across my boots.
A maple, rich red with deep colored veins, rests against my toes. I bend over to collect it and run a finger along the split paths. As I reach the tip, there behind my autumn sampler, is a familiar worn bomber. Lowering the leaf, I feel a swelling in my chest. "Jack?"
Space, 10/07/2022
He’d read the space between the lines, grown enormous by each passing sigh, hurried look away, furrowed brow, and hour locked in the washroom. So, when she bit her lower lip and whispered she was pregnant, he kissed her with all the missing passion of those long weeks.
Late, 9/30/2022
He was growing frustrated. “Why should we not marry? You have said your courses are late. Could there be a better reason?”
“They may not be… because of that. And there are better reasons.”
He stepped forward, his eyes so fierce. “You refused when I said I loved you.”
Speed, 9/23/2022
Grey. His eyes had to be grey, even though they’d appeared a sullen blue in the sun. Candlelight flickered across his irises, teasing at hints of hazel. When he laughed, they lit up, filled with life. I stared, surprised at the speed with which I was falling for him.
Feelings, 9/16/2022
Prudence glared at the back of his head. It wound around the corner. The front door slammed, Jules ignored when he’d offered to get it. James stormed across the street, unconcerned by the carriage closing in. How dare he accuse her of lacking feelings? She ached now.
She’d warned him about the others. He hadn’t cared, claimed he’d be there for her and their child. It swelled in her throat, the realization that of all her conquests - the succession of gaudy wealth, debutante chasing, endless prattle - his was the laughter that mattered.
Balance, 9/09/2022
Strolling by, Matthew stalled at the door to the library. His lips parted. They must have because a hint of a gasp huffed at the sight of her. Dust caught in her hair, trailing down her skirt which was snagged out of place while she balanced on the ladder. Beautiful.
Stars, 8/11/2022
She came to town all stars in her eyes. Red lips and rosy cheeks. Her laughter flowed like gin in a speakeasy, just a word could loose her joie de vivre so you didn’t want it to stop. Taking her in was simple. She was butter in my stare. God, I’d kill to kiss her now.
Drive, 7/29/2022
He stormed to the sideboard. He’d proposed days ago. One word was all he asked. Even no would suffice. He slammed the lid to the decanter into the glass bottle, nearly cracking it. He would call the carriage and get an answer. He’d go through Hell just to see her.
Special, 7/22/2022
“It was ordered from London,” he said. “Made especially.” He leaned forward as she plucked at the silk bow, his hands inches away as if he wanted to rip the paper himself so he could revel sooner in her expression of shock then tears.
“It’s perfect,” she whispered.
He traced a finger down her spine and followed in lazy circles along the small of her back, drifting over the curve of her waist. “I like special occasions,” he said.
“I wasn’t aware of any.”
“Oh.” He began nibbling on her shoulder. “You’ve never stayed until dawn.”
Friends, 7/15/2022
We were supposed to be friends. Weekend buddies at the cafe. Late night messages. Sharing laughs over drinks while we people watched and complained about blind dates. Why was he staring, as if right through me? Why did I burn as he did?
Sleepy, 6/10/2022
I loved him from the moment I stepped off the train & wandered into his sleepy, little town, lost & alone. He caught me with those chocolate eyes of his when he pushed the latte across the counter, adding a biscotti “on the house” because it looked like I needed it.
Brilliant, 5/06/2022
Brilliant, they said. She was the shining star of the season. Too bad it bored her. She ached for the seedy dives w/ their bathtub gin & sultry jazz. The thrill of stealing the family auto for a whirl. Mostly, she just wanted the man whose sweat was mingling w/ hers.
Question, 02/04/2022
(Okay, I cheated a little on this thread. Not every entry used “question,” but I was apparently inspired.)
He'd forgone the card room again. Not even a tilt of his head in the direction of the men's rich guffawing filtering out the door. A tray of champagne was waved off. I hadn't seen a glass in his hand the whole of the evening, come to think of it. Surely he wasn't....
Lady Featherstone was trailing hopelessly behind her daughter who was slicing through the ballroom guests like a thoroughbred declaring victory. Many a man would declare themselves a pirate if that is what it took to capture her fortune. He could have her. Flirts.
A curt bow ended their latest banter. Yet, he didn't seem as pleased with himself as on previous encounters. His lips were too thin, and his eyes touched the floor as he strode away. A hand reached automatically for an offered glass. It fisted and fell.
Flirts, gamblers, and drunks had no place in my circle. I'd made that abundantly clear the last time he swirled me around the ballroom, insufferable like a peacock rattling his tail feathers. He'd kept his distance after that, never seeking to sully my dance card.
Watching him sweep the room with his gaze, as if searching for buried treasure in that sea of plenty, I wondered which debutante would be his next prey. But he held back. A grim expression studied the floor. Had little Miss Featherstone so irked him?
Heat bubbled up from my chest. It washed over onto my cheeks. Why? Why should I care whether he was vexed, if little Miss Mighty Inheritance played her games with him? He was nothing to me. Still, the room grew insufferable, made so by the burning of my own skin.
The evening air welcomed me the moment I escaped out the side door onto the patio, a cool embrace to my enflamed cheeks.
"You aren't leaving?" a voice hurried up behind me. He was blocking the door leading back into the house.
"I was looking for my sister," I lied. “I should return."
"Of course," he answered me. Despite my approach, he remained firmly in place. How could one man so completely fill a doorway?
"Step aside."
"Would you please grant me a chance to speak?" Why was he looking at me like that? Sadness, regret even.
"I'm sure there are plenty of other fortunes, I mean, ladies here who would be pleased to speak with you."
"It isn't your fortune that is the attraction," he said.
"Good, because mine is nothing compared to some." Fire burned across my cheeks again. Damn him. Mortified that he drove me to dismiss myself in such a way, I skirted around him to bolt through the door.
Although he stepped aside, his eyes bore through me when he said, "Fortune is nothing compared to a sharp mind and a fast wit and goodness of heart."
I glanced back. "No doubt you will find plenty of that. You have before," I dismissed him.
“My reputation is not who I am." His voice was so small, his stance uncertain. I was completely lost, frozen without a response or the means to escape. "Please, grant me a chance to prove myself."
A silky tune commenced the Jubilee as couples glided around us. Gowns swirled as the ladies, smiles bright upon their powdered faces, circled their partners. Men admired their journey. But we simply stood there, staring. Why did he make me question everything?
