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Not quite the right season, is it? What I should give you is a story called “The Blue Vase”, but what you see is what you get today: My writing course exercise 1 (Dialogue; working title = breaking up).
”I am damn sorry, but I don´t really believe in all this any more.”
“What do you mean?”
Larry indicates the red farm bathed in the April sun. “This. Us.” I have never noticed before that his shoulders stoop.
I plant the spade in the vegetable patch and lean against the handle. Nearly two hundred square metres newly dug mould.
”Well, it doesn´t really swing any more, does it? What I mean is, what is left between us, except work, work, work?”
And now I am supposed to start crying or yelling.
“Liz, for crap´s sake … You must also have noticed that the spark has gone. “
“Nope.” I am not looking at him but the farmhouse with the freshly painted windows.
“Oh, it is just impossible to discuss with you!” He has run out of words, and he turns around while I pull the spade out of the ground.
Afterwards, I clean the spade before I continue my spring work.
And this was the tight and concise ending. But if you bother me, I may be persuaded to add the humorous one tomorrow.
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