My friends and I are in an on-again/off-again writing club where the rules are simple. Every two weeks you have to submit three short stories that it took you 20 minutes or less to write. These are the results.

To Text To Late

There are always phone conversations, letters or text messages that you hope you have receive after a breakup that will cure your heartache.  If it were coming in text message I would hope that it would say:

There is no comparison between you and her, why did I have to change everything to come to what now seems so clear.  I just hate myself.

Why do the people that break your heart seem to come to these realizations after you moved on from everything and you don’t want to look back?  It is a slippery slope, when you let an ex-lover back into your life they take yards not inches of your trajectory.

Pretty soon you’re back to chasing the same rush, like an addict. You destroy the original motion picture of perfection that plays over and over in you’re mind and replace it with sad reality. My pretty movie romantic clips now free cable B roll.  It is exactly how I feel when I go back to my favorite college bar for alumni weekends. What was so special about this place anyways?