Five Paragraph Story: Written in the Sand

Five Paragraph Short Story: Written in the Sand

Welcome to Five Paragraph Short Stories by...moi! I'm usually inspired by music, lately country music. This tale is inspired by Old Dominion's song "Written in the Sand." Find it on YouTube! 

by Libby Sternberg

She'd seen the receipt, on top of his dresser. Maybe he'd left it there deliberately. Now she knew, and she sniffled as she threw cosmetics in her purse, her few pieces of clothing in a bag. She'd be gone by the time he got back.

When she'd met him, she'd wanted a fling, something light and fun. She couldn't afford serious. She'd known, lately, though, that she was lying to herself about it all being a lark. He was everything she wanted in a man -- sensitive, strong, creative, funny. His sense of humor was what had first attracted her to him, the way he'd joked with her when she'd served him beer at the Tap House.

She'd find a new job. Bars, restaurants, diners always needed a waitress, and she was a good one, friendly, pretty, fast and attentive. She remembered things, had practically a photographic memory, hardly had to write down orders. Swearing, she hit her balled-up fist on the dresser, causing the receipt to float to the floor. Her memory was a curse.

She couldn't stop herself. She bent and picked up the paper, replacing it on his dresser. And then she couldn't stop herself from investigating further. She pulled open his top drawer, and there it was, nestled among white T-shirts and gray boxers. A velvet box. The kind that only held one kind of jewelry. Her hand reached out, touched the soft cover, but then pulled back as if she'd touched a hot stove.

She'd not look at it. It would burn into her memory, and she'd weep inside whenever seeing its image in her mind. Her memory was a curse. She pulled out her phone as she left the house, calling her WITSEC contact, telling him she was on the road to someplace new.