An exercise in creative writing

Friday, May 2, 2008

Drink Up

Mary was holding the glass firmly in her hands. The grip was so hard it felt like the glass is planted in the thin air of her one room apartment.

She had opened the windows to accentuate the view they were offering - a view to the bleak brick wall of the apartment building next door. The paint was chipping from the walls and roaches were roaming everywhere.

All her life she had dreamed about the moment she would leave her parent's farm and move into the big city. She was never like them. She was never a simple peasant. She was a sophisticated artist and couldn't bare the rural leaving anymore. The move had broken her parents' hearts, but they were supportive. They had no money to give her but the one way ticket to the big city and a big warm hug.

Mary could not have admitted to their faces that she had failed. She couldn't go back to the farm. She could not stand it.

So she took the glass and drank up.

—Time's up—

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