Flash Fiction Friday

Every Friday the peeps that run Paper Hangover run Flash Fiction Friday. Yours truly blows at flash fiction--it always winds up being a longer piece down the road.

Anyway, poached directly from their site:

"Here's the gist. Each week, one of us we'll give you some kind of writing prompt--it won't always be stories, just something to get those creative juices flowing. If you want to participate, just leave your link in the comments and we'll stop by and see your work. Easy, right??"
This week's prompt is In 300 words or less, write a story that begins with 'It's not you, it's me...'

“It’s not you, it’s me.” I didn’t need to make it sound genuine; it was the truth. The timing of the conversation was all wrong, of course. No girl needs to explain her reasons for saying no to marriage minutes after mind-blowing sex.
We’ve had variations of this fight for three months, but never got to the nasty, in-the-heat-of-the-moment comments that would’ve marked the end. I’d give my reason for refusal and Aidan would accept my decision, only to bring it up again a week or two later.
Beside me, Aidan pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes. The movement alone was rigged with tension. I hated myself a little for putting it there. “I don’t see how, Laurel. You’re saying no to me. To spending your life with me.”
“I want to spend my life with you. I don’t want marriage.”
 “Too permanent?”
The bitterness threw me and when I looked at him, The Scowl was back. I tried to touch Aidan’s cheek, but he shrugged me off.
I sighed. “This has nothing to do with permanence.”
“Then what?”
This was the part of the argument I always lost; I never had a “good” reason for being anti-marriage. The hassle, the pomp, and the paperwork seemed to be too much work, especially since “living in sin” wasn’t a scandal anymore. That, and the whole legal end of marrying a trust fund baby scared the pants off of my lower middle class ass. I was too much of a coward to tell Aidan and he kept proposing, like his tenacity would change my mind.
“Why do you keep pushing for this?”
He kept quiet until the silence pressed down on me.
“I can’t picture my life without you. Do I need another reason?” He said to the ceiling.

See? Part of a larger whole. At least this way I'm working on my backstory. Hooray!

Don't forget to go to Paper Hangover to read the other flash pieces.

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Last.fm hit of the day: Freedom of Choice by A Perfect Circle