Wednesday, August 17, 2011
Write On Wednesday–Piqued
Write On Wednesdays Exercise 10 - A Gift of Serendipity... Take Felicity's Word of the Week. Write it at the top of your page. Set your timer for 5 minutes. Write the first words that come into your head after the Word of the Week. Stop writing when the buzzer rings.
Felicity's Word of the Week is... Piqued
This is part of a longer, ongoing piece I’m working on at the moment (or at least every Wednesday in five-minute increments… hahahaha). I’m kind of skipping around, so sorry if it doesn’t make sense out of context.
The weekend passed in a blur of hours and endless chores and tasks. Olivia felt better, for the most part, throughout the days, but there were occasions when she’d get a wave of queasiness and have to take deep breaths to get through it. She kept silent about her stomach dilemma since she couldn’t figure out what was going on, and she didn’t want to needlessly worry Matthew. She was sure she’d just picked up a virus from an employee. She also didn’t want to have him treat her like an invalid for the rest of the weekend. By Monday, she was getting used to the challenge of ignoring the nausea or eating a handful of saltines to help ease it. She felt like a stoic warrior… like Gerard Butler in 300 or something. She was going to kick the stomach bug one way or the other.
“Maybe you are pregnant,” Claire stated with a Cheshire grin.
“Don’t even go there. You know that’s not funny,” Olivia stuck her tongue out at her assistant. “Plus, I know this will fall under the category of ‘too much information’ but now I feel like you deserve it. Matthew, my darling mister, had himself snipped right after Elsie. Snip snip.” She made a scissor motion with her two fingers and smiled at the ‘ewww gross’ look that crossed Claire’s face.
“That doesn’t mean anything,” was Claire’s comeback. “You know the statistic.”
“What statistic?” Olivia asked, her curiosity piqued.
“The statistic that says that one couple in like eight million or something ends up pregnant *after* a vasectomy. Maybe you are lucky number eight million.”
“Now that is really not funny.” Olivia glared at Claire. “That is like a lotto statistic. Maybe I should start playing the lottery.”
Olivia dragged a chair over and sat down in front of Claire’s desk. "Let’s ignore your crazy comment and look at those numbers." The two sat and pored over the latest round of figures Claire had compiled.