so an entry into the wonderful world of minimalism style short story writing. Where the reader has to do a fair amount of the world building themselves, they have to invest a little, instead of just being spoon fed everything

Want to do more of these.

She said, ‘’I love you, but you make me nervous.’’

He didn’t turn to look at her, just stared intently out at the road, hands holding the steering wheel as if his life depended on it.

She thought, ‘’Did I say that aloud?’’

‘’Yes, you did’’ he replied, the tiniest hint of a smile, cracking through the concentration.

The car gliding down that coastal road, just after midnight, the two of them and the Moon, wicked, crazy clown face, clouds standing in for barely there decomposing body.

She had thought it would be romantic, when he had suggested they go, but now she knew, there was no romance here, just tension and a tumble of thoughts hitting against the windows and the cold, unable to form into something more real, or comforting, or to hang on to.

She had seen that look on his face before, earlier that very evening in fact, as he played pool with his colleagues in a well lit, neat, shiny hole they called ‘The Getaway’ though why exactly they called it that, she could not surmise,

and what was it that they were getting away from?

A place where the business elite congregated (killers all) it was all conspicuous consumption, all style with substance forbidden.  It was a place where the drinks were fancy and expensive and the snacks were pretty.

They played to win, to destroy, to obliterate, these middle management warriors, wearing suits that were ‘just so’ and beards and haircuts shaped and formed by a trendy fellow (they called him by his French sounding first name, but he would never be invited to their homes) who charged amounts in correlation to how much he despised them.

They, these fake grinning puppets of industry, all had the same intense look in their eyes, a hint of self awareness and self hatred and bitterness. They KNEW that even when they got older, and their hair had turned foxy silver and they had become CEO or Leader, or Guru, they would all still be just ordinary, middle management still. They would just do their mundane flirting sitting down rather than at the bar or on the dance-floor (they would remark ‘that they had achieved a touch of gravitas’ )

Although, ordinary and rich is good is better than nothing, right?

So

 When he said, out of the blue, up there in the middle of her third cocktail, ‘’let’s go somewhere, out on the road, along the coast, it’s a full moon’’ she was taken by surprise and delight and found herself giggling for the first time in months.

He asked, voice barely above a whisper, ‘’what makes you nervous? Is it my potential, my ascent, the giddy stratosphere of society I shall lead you into?’’

She became both annoyed and amused by this, ‘’don’t be an idiot’’

As if she hadn’t spoken, he carried on, ‘’ or is it you sense danger, the unpredictable, that I will do this,’’

He switched off the car lights, now the car glided in the darkness, the clown moon hiding totally behind an off shore storm.

‘’Or maybe if I close my eyes for a bit?’’

But, instead of fear, there was joy in her voice, ‘’Look there is the Balmoral Hotel, isn’t there some sort of ultra exclusive party there tonight and your boss will be there? He will be impressed you made it’’

So

Minutes later in the too bright, far too fancy ‘restroom’ she stared into the mirror.

‘’Why am I here? Where am I going?’’

‘’ Ok so heads I stay with him tonight, and maybe tomorrow and maybe…’’

She fumbled for a coin and flipped it, Shook her head at the result.

‘’ok best out of three’’