The paperwork wouldn't be finalized for another couple of days, but as they were leaving the courthouse, the lawyer explained that that the judge had signed off on it, and now, all she had to do was wait to receive her final, certified, copy in the mail. She did, however, have to go back to the office to get her check: the last remaining joint account cashed out, the lawyer's fee deducted, and the rest -- a significantly smaller sum than she was expecting -- to be deposited into her account. Maybe she would buy some new shoes this weekend, to celebrate her new freedom.
In the car, windows down and radio blaring, she silently debated whether to use the drive-through or park and go into the lobby. The line of cars at the drive-through teller made her decision for her, and so she parked and walked inside. She was standing in the long line, absentmindedly filling out her deposit slip, when she heard a voice she recognized.
She tried and tried to place the voice. And then, just like that, a flood of memories. High school. A few parties here and there, some friends in common. He was in her World Lit class Junior year, sat in the back of the room. He was quiet and brooding, and back then, she had thought it was absolutely adorable.
She looked up from her thoughts just in time to see a flash of metal and a voice -- the voice she recognized -- yelling at them all to get down on the ground.
This was not the way she had intended her new life to begin.
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For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Fran challenged me with "Freshly divorced, you're waiting in line when you spot someone you had a crush on in High School. Write about it. " and I challenged Diane with "Go back through your archives (we all have them) and find your most embarrassing piece of adolescent writing -- 8th grade or so. Rewrite it in your "adult" voice."
Thursday, April 5, 2012
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