Experiments in Non-Fiction

She drives through the rain on her way home, speeding because she can’t focus. Chills wrack her body but it’s not because of the cold. To think she could have unknowingly murdered the best relationship in her life…the sobs begin. Not so much tears but heaving gasps for air. She doubles over in the drivers seat as she replays the last conversation she had with him. The tears she blinks and the rain on the windshield make it difficult to see but she makes it past the railroad tracks and into the driveway of her empty house. As she sits there in the dark car she finally breaks down. Please God, if there was ever a time to believe in you it’s now. Please don’t let me ruin this. Don’t let me mess it up. She shivers for awhile and then goes inside.
She changes clothes and gets in bed, reaching for the word processor. Determination to say what she is feeling before sleep can dull the emotions and fray the memory of the conversation. She types it all out choosing her words carefully, picking each one to represent the exact feeling she is experiencing. It sounds stupid to her. Juvenile and clichéd. But she is past caring about that, this is how she feels. Maybe it doesn’t even nick the surface of everything there is to say, but for now it works. There is the future for everything else.