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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Romance/Love · #1644716
yes, it keeps going
 The Shirt Off Your Back - Chapter 4  (18+)
and the story continues . . . .
#1644019 by audra_branson


Chapter 5


“It’s gotta be around here somewhere.”  Ken actually seemed to believe these words as he searched under park benches I never even went near.

“It’s not here!  Someone stole it while I was off racing you to God even knows where!”

“Well, on the bright side, it didn’t have your credit card in it.  It’s safe in my pocket.”

“Oh joy.  Too bad you didn’t need to borrow my cell phone, drivers license, and keys.”  The magnitude of it all began to hit me.  Despite all my efforts, my eyes filled with tears.

“Baby, don’t cry.  We’ll take care of it.  Everything can be replaced.  You still have Sheila and me.”  His sheepish grin as he held up the stray cat he had captured in the zoo sent me over the edge.

“Ken, listen closely here.  I’m sorry, but I don’t like you.  I don’t like that poop-filled cat.  I don’t like this date.  To put it in terms that you might understand, I’d rather have multiple root canals performed on me by my former mother-in-law than spend another millisecond with you.  I’m sorry for being a bitch.  I’m sorry for crying right now.  But more than anything, I’m sorry I ever signed up on an internet dating site!  You will take me and my sprained ankle home now.  You will not talk to me; you’ll quit calling me these annoying terms of endearment.  And finally, you will quit holding up that damn “I love the zoo” shirt like it’s something to be proud of!”

Raising his hand like a six-year-old school boy, Ken softly asked, “May I say one more thing.  And I’m really not trying to set you off with this.”

“What!?” I growled through clenched teeth.

“How are you going to get in your house without your keys?”

A little piece of logic was all it took to completely break me down.  My head dropped and tears sprang forth like a strong rain after a long drought.  I can’t believe I shaved my legs for this.   The strangest thoughts race through your head as you seem ultimately lost in a situation.  Mascara trailed down my splotchy red face.  I caught a glimpse of myself in the window of customer service.  Had it been another day and time I might have laughed at the sight - a wheelchair, a pooped stained blouse, puffy eyes, hair that rivaled Medusa’s, and Ken holding a kitten that looked more like a rabid rat.  Surely, karma was about done getting even with me. 

“Ms. Taylor?  What are you doing at the zoo?  You said you hated it.”

I turned to the voice, blinking my eyes to clear them.  No words would form as I sat staring at Dakota Weese, the class clown of my third hour 8th grade English class.

WC - 471
Total - 4187
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