The longer she waited. . .

Writing prompt Wednesday was: The longer she waited. . .

My writing prompt response:

The longer she waited the more uneasy she became and the harder it would be.

(I could leave you right there. I would leave you asking why she became more uneasy and what would be harder. I thought about doing just that, but. . .I’m not that evil. Well, okay, I am, but please read on. )



The longer she waited the more nervous she became and the harder it would be. At every passing hour, she felt her courage slipping away. The courage to say goodbye, leave her life, as she knew it behind, and start over. All she had to do was step over the threshold. Biting her thumbnail, she stared at the door, her axis, turning point with a queasiness in the pit of her stomach.

Stephanie glanced at her gold wristwatch. “Well, it’s now or never.”

Taking a deep breath, she pusher herself to her feet, grabbed the keys and glass star off the coffee table, and slid the straps of her purse and backpack over her shoulder. Stephanie glanced around the only home she’d known since childhood one last time then steeled herself and walked to the foyer.

The phone rang.

With her hand on the doorknob, Stephanie contemplated answering the phone then managed to tune it out as she tugged the heavy door open. Sunlight streamed in, offered her a warm welcome. She stepped one foot over the entrance and the little, yellow glass star she believed to be her good luck charm slipped from her arm, hit the Italian marble floor and shattered into a million tiny pieces.

The splintered glass resembled the shards of her life. Tears blurred her vision then slid down her cheek. She glances over her shoulder at the world outside, imagined what her life could be. She looked back into the heart of the house she decorated and remembered how her married life had started out.

Closing her eyes, she inhaled slow and deep then shut the door.