Here's a little something that I just wrote after reading short stories from Raymond Carver. This pretty much my own rewrite of "Popular Mechanics" that is not as sad and depressing as the original. I hope you guys enjoy it!
And if you guys want to read the original, here's a link to his short story: .
She stood there silently, watching the man before her pack clothing into a suitcase with a slight grimace on his face. Words hadn't been exchanged since he had walked through the front door, but the tension was thick and the moment tense. Despite the small pile of clothes lying on the bed next to the suitcase, he stopped abruptly, feeling her intense gaze penetrating the back of his head.
His expression stayed solemn but the small squint of his eyes and the slight furrow of his eyebrows hinted at the anger that bubbled beneath the surface when their eyes finally met. But quickly she saw the hurt, the sorrow, and the mistrust that slowly crept to the surface of his deep brown eyes.
He packed the rest of the clothes into the suitcase and made his way over to where she was standing. Despite the fact that her eyes were filled with unshed tears, she stood up straight with unmistakable defiance. As the first single tear sled down her cheek, he clenched at the handle of his suitcase that much tighter.
At least she was showing that she cared about the relationship, even if it was in her own unconventional way. It was the least she could do he thought. But his heart softened at the reminder of why he first fell in love with her. He found her strength and her stubbornness to completely reveal her feelings, even if she was failing miserably, as endearing as much as he found it annoying and frustrating.
One tear turned turned to two until a steady stream trickled down her cheeks. But she continued to stand there in his path, their eyes locking as she wept in silence. The sunlight from window managed to catch her face, turning her nearly black eyes to a deep shade of brown. His jaw clenched with anger and desire.
"Move," he uttered gruffly. Her resolve was beginning to crumble as the intensity of her gaze began to dwindle.
"You're really walking out on us?" she mumbled, refusing to move from his path.
They stood there staring at each other for what seemed like a life time. "Don't make me move you…" He warned.
"But…."
"But what?" he interrupted, his patience running thin.
"I… I love you."
Her voice broke as the sobs began to wrack through her body. He stared her with his mouth slightly agape unsure of how to feel. For so long he'd been wanting an emotional response of any kind to show that she at least gave a damn about him. And now it was coming at him at full force. He felt as if a rug had been swept up from under his feet.
While she sobbed he pushed aside her, desperately needing to get out of their house. She was on his heels as he made his way to the kitchen. He could feel her grabbing at his shirt and suitcase as she pled for him to stay, to give her and them another chance. When his hand reached the door knob that led out back, her hand managed to cover his with a startling gentleness that stopped him in his tracks.
"Please," she uttered breathlessly, her tearstained face exuding so much earnest that he felt the need to kiss her.
He could taste the bitterness of her tears as their lips met for what was possibly for the last time. Her hands clutched onto the front of his shirt in a vice like grip as if she was hanging on for dear life. He grabbed on to her wrists, gently prying them away from him as the moment intensified. When they finally parted she rested her head on his chest as he caught his breath.
"I need to go," he murmured into her hair. Reluctantly she stepped away from him and watch him walk out of the word without a final look.
She tried her best to stifle her sobs as she sunk to the cold kitchen floor, now feeling more alone than ever and left questioning his return.