Life Reduction
Take some clutter in your life that is taking up space. Cut it in half. Cut it in half again. What you're left with is the essentials of the life you have lived.
(295 Words)
The piles of Liz's stuff were everywhere: a lanyard with a Jefferson High School logo, blue and gold Mardi Gras beads, a pencil holder that used to be a soup can, a coin purse in the shape of Big Ben, two decks of cards with pictures of Yellowstone on the back, a bouquet of fake roses, a dozen half-burned candles, Trader Joe's receipts from four years ago, plane ticket stubs from all of her flights in the last ten years (New York City to São Paulo, London to Prague, Venice to Madrid), a teddy bear from her father, photo albums for each trip she had taken, a box of more recent wedding photos, books that were falling apart from age and use—Nancy Drew, Black Beauty, Alice in Wonderland, Treasure Island—and paper of every size and color and shape: bookmarks, quotes, magazine articles, maps, journals, shopping lists, museum pamphlets, calendars. All of it surrounding a cross-legged Liz sitting on the living room floor.
George watched Liz rediscover each long-lost and utterly useless treasure with his arms folded from the edge of the room. "So, you planning on opening an antique shop?" he said, tempering his sarcasm with a half-smile. "Or maybe a junk yard." He eyed a pile of homemade Christmas ornaments. "You could sell some of this, maybe online. We could use the money. Save it up for later. If you don't, we're going to need a room just for stuff we don't need."
He was always talking about later, planning their future, worrying, watching. "I can't get rid of my memories," Liz said. She looked up from a box of dried leaves, brittle and breaking with age. Their eyes met briefly before George walked away, avoiding the piles of stuff between them.
(145 Words)
Liz's stuff was everywhere: gold Mardi Gras beads, Big Ben coin purse, decks of cards from Yellowstone, half-burned candles, plane tickets from the last ten years (New York to São Paulo, London to Prague, Venice to Madrid), teddy bear from her father, photo albums for each trip, Black Beauty, Alice in Wonderland, Treasure Island, maps, journals, museum pamphlets, calendars. And Liz. All on the living room floor.
George stood with his arms folded. "You planning on opening an antique shop?" he asked. "Or maybe a junk yard." He eyed the Christmas ornaments. "We could sell some of this. Save up the money for later."
He was always talking about later, planning their future. "I can't get rid of my memories," Liz said. She looked up from the box of their wedding photos. Their eyes met briefly before George walked away, avoiding the stuff between them.
(74 Words)
Liz's stuff was everywhere: gold beads, Big Ben coin purse, Yellowstone playing cards, plane tickets (New York, São Paulo, London, Prague, Venice, Madrid), teddy bear, photo albums, Treasure Island, maps, journals.
"You opening an antique shop?" George asked. "You could sell some of this. Save the money for later."
Liz looked up from their wedding photos. "I can't get rid of my memories." Their eyes met. George walked away, avoiding what was between them.
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