I won the “Write On” February Challenge with “Waiting for Spring”

In case you didn’t see it on Twitter and didn’t see it on Facebook and didn’t hear me shouting it from the top of Mt. Fuji, I wanted to let you know that I won first place in the Write On February Challenge with my story “Waiting for Spring.”  You can read my story and check out their site here.  I hope you like it! :-)

You can also listen to my audio recording of “Waiting for Spring” and the full text follows …

“Waiting for Spring” by P.J. Kaiser


The sound of his voice breaks the silence of the living room. “I’m sorry, Middy.”  She starts to turn her head away from the window but then turns back. She doesn’t want him to see her eyes – swollen and red from crying. She sits on the cushions in the bay window holding the sheer curtain back with one hand and gazing into the backyard littered with the detritus of autumn.

She hears him taking off his coat and walking across the living room. His disembodied voice hovers behind her. He says again, “I’m sorry, Middy. I don’t know what else to say.”

“There’s nothing more to say. You have broken my heart for the last time. Now, go. And never call me Middy again.”

“Look, Middy – er – Midge – I feel terrible for what I did. I didn’t mean for it to happen. It’s just one of those things.”

She keeps her eyes focused out the window. Tears begin their trek down her cheeks again but she keeps her voice steady. “But it did happen. And I found out about it in this morning’s paper. At least you had the sense to keep the others out of the papers. Now I’m not only betrayed but I’m humiliated. It’s time for you to go. I packed a bag for you. It’s there by the door.”

“She didn’t mean anything to me.”  Midge hears his voice begin to crack. “I can’t believe I screwed things up so badly. I love you and I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

She brushes away her tears, turns to glare at him and picks up the phone lying next to her. “If you are not out of this house in the next sixty seconds I am calling 9-1-1.”  She turns back to the window and hears his retreating footsteps, the click of the handle of his suitcase, the creak of the door to the garage, the vibration of the automatic garage door through the wall, the humming of the car engine and the vibration of the garage door closing. Then silence.

Her eyes focus again on the yard. She thinks about her heart and realizes that it’s not broken. It’s like the leaves – crinkled and disintegrated and shattered beyond recognition. She wonders how long it will be until spring comes.

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