David didn’t remember turning his alarm clock off, but as he yawned and stretched that Saturday morning he decided it was probably a good idea he hadn’t set it. After the week he had, he needed a little extra rest. Plus, it was the weekend – weren’t you supposed to sleep in?
He turned in his instinctual morning movement to check his phone and found a crisp sheet of white paper folded over it.
He opened the note and saw the neat script of his girlfriend Emily.
I hope this doesn’t come as a shock – and it shouldn’t if you have any awareness at all about our relationship over the last few months – but, I’m leaving you.
I just can’t do this anymore. I love you, but we both have grown and grown apart. Everything has gone sour and I don’t see that changing. You will always be in my heart in some way, but I am getting out before I start hating you.
I took the liberty of getting you a replacement. I know you don’t like to sleep alone and, frankly, I worry about you. You have an important job and I don’t want you to fuck it up because you are depressed about our divorce.
The replacement’s name is Claire.
I’m staying with my parents in Decatur for a while. Don’t call.
The first page of a story was stapled to the back of a paper on economic reform in post soviet Russia.
Jason wasn’t sure if the story was for him or the professor or simply a mistake. He assumed the students knew that Jason was the one who really marked all the papers. Hell, he gave the lectures for the majority of the semester. Big name professors don’t do very much, teaching assistants do all the real work.
Still, the single page was like nothing Jason had ever seen in the context of Russian history, or more accurately contemporary Russian economic history. This was a snippet of a dirty dream. A little fragment of someone’s fantasy.
Jason carefully opened the staple with his fingernail and pulled the single page from the rest of the paper and then closed the staple back up.
Like most of Sophia’s work, the paper was a solid B. The story on the other hand was far more difficult to quantify.
Title image by Face It. CC BY-NC 2.0
The thing was, she was young. Very young. Certainly legal, but still, I really should have been ashamed of myself. I was a thirty-two year old man! It started out so simply though. She sent me a picture because I wrote something silly like, if a picture is worth a thousand words than a thousand words must be worth a picture.
A story about spanking