Sometimes I Just Amuse Myself (Day 3)


Day 3’s writing prompt turned out to be a quirky fun scene that was really fun to write. Just over 800 words, the prompt was “Write a short story about yourself if you were psychic and able to read the thoughts of those around you.” I took a little license with the idea and here’s what came out:

Holy shit he smells amazing!

“Excuse me?”

The girl behind the counter looked up at me. “Yes? How can I help you?”

I flushed a little. “Um. Well, I was looking for some perfume, for my girlfriend.”

Of course you have a girlfriend. How come every guy who looks like that already has a girlfriend?

“Who looks like what?

Her face startled. “What? I didn’t–” She fumbled for the words that I had already heard, like the train whistle before it pulls into the station. “Uh. Well…what does she like?”

Besides burying her face in that gorgeous chest of yours and breathing that incredible scent. What the hell is that? Did he buy that here? Can I spray it on my pillow? 

I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it. I try really hard not to listen, but sometimes it’s just downright embarrassing.

“Is something funny?” She looked at me, perplexed, then her face turned red. “Oh my God! I didn’t mean it like that! I meant, what kinds of smells does she like? Florals, woodsy, musk, or maybe spicy?”

Oh God. Not spicy! Why did you just use the word spicy? This is so awkward and I am just making it ten times worse!

“No, no. That’s ok. I knew what you meant. She uh–she…actually likes spicy. Scents, I mean.” I smiled sardonically and her eyes melted a little around the edges.

I would totally have sex with this guy. Right now, right on this counter. Jesus is my face as red as it feels? Turn around and pretend to look for a bottle behind you.

She turned around as expected, rifled through a few bottles, took a deep breath and turned back toward me with a smile. “I think I might have just what you’re looking for.”

Shut up shut up shut up! You did not just say that!

“Right over here.” She accidentally knocked over a couple of bottles on her way down the counter. “Oops!” I smiled again as I helped her pick them back up. “Sorry about that. This one has a few floral overtones but it’s got a hint of cinnamon and some spice on the back end.”

Ridiculous. It’s getting worse. You are just digging a ginormous hole that you’re never going to get out of.

“Back end, huh?” I winked at her as she sprayed some perfume on a little white rectangle of card stock and waved it a few times before handing it to me. Her face turned bright red this time.

“I am so sorry! I didn’t mean it like that.”

I’m going to lose this job. I am so fired right now. Thank God my boss is gone for the evening and I only have fifteen minutes left in my shift!

She fiddled with her hair, which was a beautiful auburn color that complimented the red covering her face at the moment. She was actually adorable. I sniffed the card in my hand. “Beautiful. Is this what you wear?”

I watched her throat work hard to swallow. “Uh. Yeah. I mean, yes. It is, actually.”

“Well, I think I like it. Very much.” I smiled again and watched her grip the counter tighter.

“Oh. Well, good. Do you think she’ll like it?” Her smile was forced and she started drumming her fingers on the top of the counter.

Is my back actually sweating right now? Yes, yes it is. It’s dripping down into my ass. Perfect.

I looked down at her fingers, then back up at her face and sighed. “I have a confession to make.”

“A confession?”

“I don’t…really have a girlfriend.”

Gee, God, I didn’t know you cared.  She seemed to be sizing me up with her look. “Let me guess, you have three.”

“No. Not even one.” I laughed. “Impressive comeback though.”

I have my moments. When I’m not paralyzed by fear, that is. “Ok I’ll bite. Then why are you buying perfume?”

“I…just wanted to talk to you.” Well, truth be known what I had wanted was to listen to her, but that was beside the point. The games I played in my head were for my enjoyment and no one else’s.

“To me?” Her face was skeptical but she relaxed into herself a little and her thoughts faded too deep for me to retrieve easily.

“Yes. I saw you when I was standing over there and you have a beautiful smile and I wanted to talk to you. But I obviously don’t wear perfume, so…”

When I grinned she relaxed even more, to the point where I could no longer hear her thoughts at all, but that was fine with me. With any luck pretty soon I’d have a date to be focusing on.

“So, what time do you get off work?” I asked, but the train whistle had already blown.




About the author

Lynda Meyers

Lynda Meyers is the award-winning author of Letters From The Ledge and Finn Again

By Lynda Meyers

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