Short Story: Grief

This was a writing exercise that I had to do for my fiction workshop class last year. I decided to share it here. Let me know what you guys think in the comment section below, please.



Catching sight of her reflection in the window, she sighed, and brushed the unruly flaxen ringlets back from her face. She frowned, her full mouth a touch too wide for her face, as trying to tame her mane was a useless endeavor.  She attempted to brush her hair from her caramel eyes one last time, before giving it up as a lost cause, and continuing down the street. Her eyes danced from building to building, moving from sign to sign, searching for the one she needed, and she shoved her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket, hunching her shoulders to ward off some of the chill from the breeze.

She frowned again. She was running late, should have been there already. The little cafe she was supposed to meet Maya at was not as easy to find as she promised.

Finally, the sign caught her eye, ‘Taste of Heaven’. She sped up her steps, the noise of her heavy booted feet drowned out by the noise of the day. The scent of cinnamon reached her nose before she even made it past the wrought iron fence that blocked the cafe’s patio from the sidewalk.

Upon opening the glass door, she was bathed in the scents of cinnamon, sugar, yeast, and coffee. The sudden warmth of being inside caused a shiver to race down her spine. She looked around, looking around the small tables – placed in groups of twos and threes- for a familiar face.


Her head snapped around, and flaxen curls tumbled around her face. “Maya.”

“There you are. I was beginning to think you wouldn’t show.” Maya smiled, making her big blue eyes crinkle at the corners. “I already bought you a hot chocolate.” Maya gestured to the seat across from her -a cup in her hand- to where another small cardboard cup sat waiting, steam rising from the lid.

Andie moved to sit at the table, wincing at the noise her chair made as it dragged across the floor. “Sorry.”

Maya shook her head, her brunette ponytail bobbing at the motion. “It’s ok. You’re here now.”

Andie looked down, and slowly wrapped her hands around the cup in front of her, sighing at the warmth.

“I hope you like it.” Maya smiled as Andie glanced up at her through her lashes. “I love this place.”

Andie brought the cup up to her face, and the rich, earthy scent of melted chocolate invaded her nose. She blew some of the steam away, and took a small sip, wincing at the sharp bite of heat at the tip of her tongue, but then sighing -her shoulders relaxing- as the taste of creamy melted chocolate washed over her tongue.


Andie’s brown eyes snapped up to Maya. “What?”

“Do you like it?” Maya’s quirked lips suggested she already knew the answer.

Andie glanced away and nodded. “Yea, it’s good.”

Maya sighed, and reached her hand across the table, hesitating, before she let her fingertips rest gently against the back of Andie’s hand. The blonde kept her gaze away, even though her shoulders tensed. “I’ve missed you, you know.”

Andie’s eyes closed, and she sighed again. She seemed to be doing it a lot over recent days. Her shoulders drooped, and she nodded. “I-” She cleared her throat. “I know.” Her flickered her gaze to Maya’s face, the concern written across her features, making her eyes jump away again. “I’ve missed you, too.” She took another quick sip of her drink.

Maya drew her hand away, and took a sip of her own drink. She looked down at the table top, then closed her eyes. “It shouldn’t be this weird between us.”

Andie bit at her lower lip, the guilt bubbled in her stomach, turning the sweet hot chocolate sour. She frowned and moved the cup away from her face. “No.” Her response was barely a whisper.

“Then what do we do?” Andie looked up at the sound of tears in Maya’s voice. They weren’t falling yet, but her thick eyelashes glistened in the faint overhead light. “I know you loved him, but he was my brother.

Andie closed her eyes and took a deep shuddering breath. “That’s the problem.”


“Every time I look at you, I see him. I can’t-” Andie swallowed thickly and turned her face down, her ringlets shielding her, before continuing in a tight whisper, “I just can’t.”




Hello everyone,

This will be a short post. I am an English major, and I have been focusing on classes for creative writing. I’m hoping to get myself into a special class where I work on a project of my choice.  I’m  considering  writing short stories and putting them together in a book,  with the goal to be published. Would that be something anyone is actually interested in  reading?  I’m want too start small to get my name out there.

Please let me know in the comments below what you think.  And if you’re interested.

Thank you.