Short story: Some Kind of Holiday. Life's ups and downs have been a challenge, but Rae is finally ready to step back into the world. Almost immediately she meets a very attractive, friendly woman happy to help. Despite setbacks and a sore heart, things are looking up, are moving along perfectly, maybe a little too perfectly. Is this new woman for real – or is there more to the story? Slice of life story about working through heartbreak, with queer romantic tones.Sample from Some Kind of Holiday:Already feeling awkward, Rae makes an assumption, waves a hand in the air, "you think I shouldn't make a comment like that because I am probably one of them?""No," the woman defends, "I wasn't saying that at all."This is it, precisely why Rae hates being out in the world. Lee made all that better, understood her, loved her quirks, while people in general are too much work. "It's ok," holding up a hand, "it's me. I'm not in the best place."The other woman blinks, "do you want to talk about it?""Not at all," shake of the head, knowing she would not get through even one sentence without losing it.Nodding toward the empty demitasse sitting between them, "how about a refill then?" Accepting the compromise, Rae nods. Returning with a steaming cup the woman says, "maybe we can start over?" Extending a hand, "I'm Jung."Barely touching her hand, bowing a tiny bit, "Rae."They look at one another a moment, then the woman smiles, "I'm not used to this coffee shop, but I think I like it."Innocent enough, or flirtatious? All of it, the awkwardness, trying to puzzle through other people's words, intentions, is overload for the grieving woman's first real day in the world. Tossing back the coffee she stands up, mumbles "thanks", makes a hasty exit. Finding the human condition and our antics endlessly fascinating, I tend to write 'slice of life' pieces about moments, situations, interactions, personalities – most often with some amount of humor or irony, always with wonder. The subject or subjects are frequently lgbtq, w/w, to the degree it matters, since people are people, stories are stories.
