Tuesday, 7:30 a.m.

I haven’t posted any creative writing in a while – Spring is always the busiest time for my family and I’ve been having trouble finding the time for short pieces and to keep up with the gentle, low-pressure assignments in my writing group. But I dashed this one off the other day – the assignment was to create a conversation between two characters, using a few “tags” (like he said, she said) as possible. It turned out pretty good for fewer than 300 words.

Want to try your own? If you do, I’d love to read it – feel free to drop it or a link to it in the comments!

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Tuesday, 7:30 a.m.

The coffee burbles cheerfully, almost offensively. She taps her fingers on the counter as she waits for caffeine, her eyes blurry, staring into space. He squints at a tablet at the table, re-reading the same email multiple times as he struggles to focus.

I think I got a total of five hours of sleep last night, she says.

I think we need to set up automatic billing, he says.

It was one hour up, one hour down. She’s just so stuffy, she couldn’t settle.

I keep forgetting to pay the hydro. If we approve the automatic billing it will just happen and we won’t have to worry about it.

I think I might have fallen asleep nursing. All I remember is the clock saying 1, and then 1:33, and I don’t know how I got there.

This website sucks. It keeps telling me I’m not authorized. Authorize this, idiots.

At least she seems calmer since I gave her some Advil. You think it was the right thing, don’t you? Giving her medicine?

I’m going to have to call them later. There’s no way the helpline is open yet, don’t you think?

There’s a bing.

Coffee? She asks.

None for me, he says. I want to get in early so I can set up for that training course.

He checks his watch.

I’m actually late, he says.

I’m also late, she says.

He chuckles. What are you late for? You don’t want to go anywhere today, the little miss isn’t up for it.

No, she says. I’m late-late.

There’s a silence and they turn and look at each other for the first time that morning, rumpled in jammies, grizzled with stubble.

She smiles, and he smiles, and they say nothing at all.