A piece I wrote for a competition in my town (unfortunately it didn't win) but I still kinda like it. It is now being re-purposed as a contest piece for YWS
“Wait,” the man’s voice reverberated in the silence that filled the alley. She turned to look back and the moonlight shone on her face, casting the knife-like shadow of her nose across her cheekbone. She was wearing a chiffon evening gown and her coiffure was starting to come down. There was a small coffee-with-cream-brown curl outlined against her forehead.
“Why?” her voice was harsh, as if she was holding back the tears that longed to spill from her mascara-ed eyes.
“I…I’m sorry,” he finally managed. He held out his hand, hoping she might cross the ten feet between them and take it.
She glared at him for a moment, and then stalked away on high heels that he was sure made her feet hurt like hell.
"I have something for you,” he called.
She didn’t know why he would want to talk to her after what he did. But here he was and all she wanted in the world was to believe him. Finally curiosity got the better of her and she turned back towards him with her hands on her hips.
He crossed the cracked asphalt in his tux and knelt at her feet. He fished in his breast pocket, pulling out a little black box. He opened it and she saw the two rings glittering against the black velvet.
“Leanne, will you marry me?”
She stared at him. Her palms were sweating even though the evening was cool. Why would he want to marry her? There was a bruise on the back of her thigh where he had pushed her into the table after he drank too much. But maybe this was his way of apologizing. One part of her wanted nothing more than to say yes.
The bruise throbbed and she realized what accepting would mean. She bent and kissed him, savoring the feeling of his lips on hers. Then she straightened up and walked away, towards the Manhattan apartment where she wrote novels, glad that she still had the rest of her life ahead of her.
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