It's not edited … you'll be all right.

Prompt by Bel Moctezuma- thanks Sis.

1.

Starting a new

It goes without saying, starting over is hard. It's not just change that makes starting over scary. It's that you have to put in a change of address with the Post Office (they charge a dollar for this now-wtf), it's packing boxes, re-registering to vote, and telling co-workers that your status has been altered; it's seeing the pity (that you certainly don't want) when you tell someone, "Hey, I'm single now." All THOSE things play on your psyche. All THOSE things make you second guess your decision. All those things make me realize that after ten years with the same man - the change is worth it.

I'm not going to bore you (or myself) with all the details as to why I'm starting over. Okay, that's a lie-I tend to do that, tell lies when I get nervous-I thought I'd found the man I wanted to spend my life with. It was easy, comfortable and he paid the bills… until he didn't. Don't judge me. We all want to be taken care of- have a man who swoops in and enables us to live a life of leisure. If you're saying, "Huh uh, not me sister," I say, "Now who's lying." But I digress; this is about why I'm single, not why you're a liar.

I came home on a Tuesday afternoon to all off our…mystuff on the lawn. Turns out, we hadn't made a mortgage payment in five months and our house had been sold on the courthouse steps two weeks previous. Did my husband know? Yep, sure did. He even attended said sale, which I might add was held in the middle of the day. How did he attend during a workday, you ask? Easy, he'd been fired from his job six, SIX months prior and hadn't bothered to tell me. Needless to say, his dishonesty was a knife in the back. I can stand a lot of things, but seriously, he knew this was happening. The lazy asshole could have at least arranged for a moving truck on the day we got evicted from our house! Luckily, I know a guy who knows a guy and was able to get some help ASAP. The neighbors were literally circling, waiting for me to turn my back so they could steal the big screen plasma and the Xbox gaming system (I may have given the Xbox to the neighbor kids my Ex hates, for spite). Of course, when I confront said lazy a-hole about all this he gave me this whiney response: "Baby, I was afraid you'd leave me if you knew the truth."

True. Facts.

I'm glad I was able to grant him a self-fulfilling prophecy.

I'll admit I'm still a bit angry, and I definitely believe it's warranted, Hell hath no fury like a woman scored. I'm living back home with my parents and two U-Store containers with my entire life stuffed inside. I think I'm allowed to be upset for at least a few months. Don't get me wrong, my life has been ok since the split. I have a place to stay, and food on the table. I even get along with my parents (they are old, so they forget that I'm a bitch sometimes), so trust me when I say I'm not complaining. But after ten years of getting ManiPedi's, lunching with the Ladies, and volunteering at the animal shelter, I didn't have many marketable job skills (although Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian managed to make a career of it…) to fall back on. Now, I have to get a job and take care of my own nails. It's a hard-knocks life.

I've never had to look for a job, so when an online friend told me to check out Craigslist, a red flag should have gone up in my head. When I found a listing wanting a receptionist, no experience necessary, I should have thought it odd—but I didn't—and you know what they say about turning back time and hindsight.

The day I stumbled in to that dingy office, (yes, literally; the carpet was pulling away from the floor and I tripped on a roll and fell through the door) I knew something wasn't right.

Everything looked yellow, at least how it would look if it were being filmed with a yellow lens. The old sun-stained vinyl curtains on a roller did nothing to help; they just cast a muted brown hue across the room covered in years of cigarette smog.

"Hello?" I shouted after taking in the room. I really should have just turned around and walked out, but I didn't. Le sigh.

"Is anyone here?" Not if they were smart I thought to myself.

"Oh, Miss Swan!" I turned, seeing an unkempt man in the doorway, holding what appeared to be a coffee maker made in 1980, and a shirt half covered in a brown stain. "You're here for the receptionist position?"

"Yeah," I stuttered out, still unsure about the train wreck of a man in front of me.

"Good! I'm Edward Cullen, and welcome to Spies and Pies."


The deal: I'll write a chapter for every prompt I get. Your prompt can be 1 word, or an idea. Prompts are still open!

Chapter length: minimum 1000k

Prompts (will be updated with new prompts as they are added):

Reviews are always appreciated!