Original story
Notes: So this is a little experiment. I don't think many people are going to be interested in this story, but even so, I still wanted to post it. I've been thinking a lot about writing original stories recently and I would really like to give it a try. Any comments and concrit are really appreciated.
Prologue
Ana hates sweetened tea, she always has, and everyone who knows her, knows this tiny detail. This is why she can’t understand why her tea is sweet.
She puts the mug on the bedside table, then stares at the nurse, as if trying to make her understand without words that that she needs another drink, unsweetened, and preferably hot-the staff in this hospital is so damn useless that she doesn’t really expect things to be perfect. She thinks she’s being pretty reasonable and if she’ll get a glare from the nurse, she doesn’t really care.
“Is everything alright, Ana?” The nurse asks. Ana can tell by the tone in her voice that she’s aqnnoyed by Ana’s antics. Let her be. It’s the third time this week she made the same mistake.
And still, the nurse’s question-Maria-gives Ana some kind of sick satisfaction. That’s what she’s been expecting all day, Maria screwing up again, so she can pick up a fight. She doesn’t really know why loves making poor Maria’s life a living hell. Maybe it’s because Maria has an advantage on her; she is young, has a life ahead of her, while Ana has nothing left save for a heart condition and many other nagging diseases that unfairly par up with her age.
“The tea,” She points to the mug, not even bothering to take it in her hands. It’s not her mistake to fix, after all.
As predicted, the nurse glares at her, before rolling her eyes. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s sweet. I don’t like sweetened tea. It makes me sick.
Maria sighs, and Ana knows that this already counts as a victory-an easily won one, but still.
The thing is, Ana is not a bad person. She has people who can vouch for her, people who have known her for many years, who have seen her at her best, as well as her worst. The problem is that the more she ages, the more anxious she gets. She forgets things-more often than she used to when she was young-and remembers things she should have forgotten a long time ago.
Like the other day, for example, she remembered something Sam told her back in the days when she was young and naïve. “I want a small coffee machine, just for me. I live alone and I’m single, so making coffee for two wouldn’t make sense.” Lie! The bastard already had someone else and married her two months later.
She tries to tell herself that once you reach a certain age, remembering things from your younger days is natural. It’s like karma is trying to remind you that life is still a bitch, and try as you might, you really can’t get away from paying your debts. Ana hopes that karma is haunting Sam more than it haunts her. Nothing personal, but he kind of deserves it.
Her fingers trace the metallic band on her finger. She starts feeling guilty for having such thoughts, for wanting Sam to suffer. They’re kind of messed up, the pair of them. They’ve always been, which is why they’ve always been so perfect for each other.
Her mind wanders to that summer day, from ’68, when she first met Sam.
“Do you know Alice?”
“She’s my boss.”
“You know, she and John, over there,” He points to a scrawny guy sitting at a table opposite to theirs. “They used to be good friends, if you know what I mean.” He smirks as he says this. Ana just smiles awkwardly. She doesn’t know this guy, but it’s not a rocket science to know that he’s a jerk.
Prologue
Ana hates sweetened tea, she always has, and everyone who knows her, knows this tiny detail. This is why she can’t understand why her tea is sweet.
She puts the mug on the bedside table, then stares at the nurse, as if trying to make her understand without words that that she needs another drink, unsweetened, and preferably hot-the staff in this hospital is so damn useless that she doesn’t really expect things to be perfect. She thinks she’s being pretty reasonable and if she’ll get a glare from the nurse, she doesn’t really care.
“Is everything alright, Ana?” The nurse asks. Ana can tell by the tone in her voice that she’s aqnnoyed by Ana’s antics. Let her be. It’s the third time this week she made the same mistake.
And still, the nurse’s question-Maria-gives Ana some kind of sick satisfaction. That’s what she’s been expecting all day, Maria screwing up again, so she can pick up a fight. She doesn’t really know why loves making poor Maria’s life a living hell. Maybe it’s because Maria has an advantage on her; she is young, has a life ahead of her, while Ana has nothing left save for a heart condition and many other nagging diseases that unfairly par up with her age.
“The tea,” She points to the mug, not even bothering to take it in her hands. It’s not her mistake to fix, after all.
As predicted, the nurse glares at her, before rolling her eyes. “What’s wrong with it?”
“It’s sweet. I don’t like sweetened tea. It makes me sick.
Maria sighs, and Ana knows that this already counts as a victory-an easily won one, but still.
The thing is, Ana is not a bad person. She has people who can vouch for her, people who have known her for many years, who have seen her at her best, as well as her worst. The problem is that the more she ages, the more anxious she gets. She forgets things-more often than she used to when she was young-and remembers things she should have forgotten a long time ago.
Like the other day, for example, she remembered something Sam told her back in the days when she was young and naïve. “I want a small coffee machine, just for me. I live alone and I’m single, so making coffee for two wouldn’t make sense.” Lie! The bastard already had someone else and married her two months later.
She tries to tell herself that once you reach a certain age, remembering things from your younger days is natural. It’s like karma is trying to remind you that life is still a bitch, and try as you might, you really can’t get away from paying your debts. Ana hopes that karma is haunting Sam more than it haunts her. Nothing personal, but he kind of deserves it.
Her fingers trace the metallic band on her finger. She starts feeling guilty for having such thoughts, for wanting Sam to suffer. They’re kind of messed up, the pair of them. They’ve always been, which is why they’ve always been so perfect for each other.
Her mind wanders to that summer day, from ’68, when she first met Sam.
“Do you know Alice?”
“She’s my boss.”
“You know, she and John, over there,” He points to a scrawny guy sitting at a table opposite to theirs. “They used to be good friends, if you know what I mean.” He smirks as he says this. Ana just smiles awkwardly. She doesn’t know this guy, but it’s not a rocket science to know that he’s a jerk.