Coming out

(This is a start to a short story I want to write… I decided to post it so as to externalize it and see what the potential of it is. Where it can go. I am learning that writing is a discipline and I want to adopt that thinking and get my discipline out there.)



The repetitive movement of shining a floor was the perfect meditative position. All else was blocked out, as she moved back and forth. The only need to get the floor shiny and to remove that faded brown mark.

“Is this dirt and how did it get there?” She wondered.

But she knew the answer all to well.

It got there because she neglected to clean the floors. So many people have come over to visit. To see her, to check her new house out (now not so new anymore) – have a glass of wine.

“Could it be a wine spill?”

Maybe she thought since so many of her friends have sat in that kitchen and walked about in their muddy feet on her floor. And she never took the time to clean it thoroughly. But was it her fault? She never had time. Why with the all the friends she had to meet, drinks to drink, work to do and thoughts to think, when was she expected to have time? To clean a floor even.

A good squish of the mop was just good enough on most days. Not a spit and polish routine that would be ambitious and so backward.

But now here she was all bend over; back and forward shining the floor, since the cleaning agents do not work. The brown mark was stubborn and rooted on the floor.

From a standing position you could not really see that mark, only once on your knees did you see the map like stain.

“The stain of that relation is not as faded as this mark,” she thought.

She had always thought her heart was where it was suppose to be. Still and behaved. Unlike those animalistic one, that can’t be domesticate. No her heart was where it needed to be. Never attacking or even reaching. Always safe.
Now it had this stupid dirt stain and her heart had to come out and face the world so it can be cleaned.

Like this stain, she never saw it happening. And now she is the process of trying to clean her heart and shine the floor. All gradually done.

“So it will take a long process to remove that dirt mark on my heart,” she sighed heavily.

It happened because she was tired of getting a broken heart. So she decided: no more.
The reasons were logical and unemotional.
“I really don’t mind being the other woman. Why not if not? As long as I have my ideas in order I’ll be okay.”

“Anyway the only reason one gets hurt is because they have their ego, heart all mixed up and stuck in their head. That is why it hurts. Once I get rid of the ego and place the heart where it belongs then life will be easy,” she thought.

And it was easy. She told many she met that doesn’t mind having another’s man, as long as she could also have her own.

Remembering Marcia’s warning: “what about you?”

“What about me?”

“My new life offers an alternative to a broken heart. I dont have the time to nurse one and now I am free to be with whomever and then leave the whoever.”
“in these clearly define monogamous relations you run the risk of disappointment gal, while I have no expectations therefore no one care,”

Was she wrong?

Expectations are always there. A prospect of marriage, a dream, a desire… always hidden in a corner of a heart.

Now she let there expectations creep in with the muddy feet. And it stained her heart.

To be continued…