“In today’s writing challenge, you’ll choose a scenario (or invent your own) and write a poem, a short story, a vignette, a scene, or flash fiction based on Nighthawks by Edward Hopper.”
I tried my best to act unaffected by glancing nonchalantly at my fingernails. However, I was certain that the red color of my nails matched the color of my cheeks, which were incidentally on fire. I sneaked a glance at him from under my eyelashes. His eyes were still locked on me, drinking me in like I was the milkshake that he had just ordered.
I told him not to come. My husband was getting suspicious. The only time I was able to leave the house was with him as my accessory.
I suppose I half expected him to show up. It’s the only reason I chose to wear this ridiculous dress which hugged my body way too tightly and the red stood out like a firecracker.
My husband was still gabbing about his mindnumbingly boring day. I inserted the appropriate amounts of “Yeah and Uh huh doll” so he wouldn’t suspect my lack of interest. Meanwhile my heart was beating wildly like an animal locked within the cages of my ribs. I hated being so close to him but not being able to physically touch the stubble on his rigid jaw. I stood up abruptly and asked to be excused.
While I was splashing my face with water, I heard the door creak open. I stiffened. I felt his warm lips at the nape of my neck before I could see him and I felt my body react immediately when I inhaled his cologne.