WRITING PROMPT: Write a poem about happy endings. Or write a story about a couple who win the lottery and fervently disagree about what to do with the money.
Lawrence and Lydia always sat side-by-side. Touching shoulders. Touching elbows. And holding hands with their fingers interlocked. Lawrence always sat on the right. Lydia to the left. This was their lucky formation. They never really knew why they decided it was lucky… They had never actually ever won anything. But every Saturday evening… at 10:56 pm… they would rush to the sofa… sit in formation…and await the drawing of the numbers.
“The Lucky Numbers for POWERBALL FIVE tonight are… 5… 17… 4… 28… and 12. Once again… 5… 17…4… 28… and 12. Thanks for playing POWERBALL FIVE this week.”
Lydia stared at Lawrence. Lawrence stared back at Lydia. Then they simultaneously leaped to their feet and squealed like little school girl’s at a sock hop.
They had all five numbers. Tonight was the night of their dreams.
Lawrence grabbed Lydia by the shoulders and somewhere in mid-hug they found themselves sitting back on the couch.
“We did it.”
“Can you believe it?”
“No more house payments.”
“A brand-new truck!”
“The college fund for Amanda is complete.”
“That hunting lodge is mine!”
“We can finish paying-off the debt on Grandma Sofia’s house.”
“The debt on Grandma Sofia’s house.”
“She has four children. Paying off our percentage is a great idea.”
“But we can afford it.”
“There are hundreds of other things we have always wanted to do. What about you always wanting to go to Paris?”
“You don’t want to go to Paris.”
“Take Amanda. Take two of your girlfriends.”
“So you are now planning to spend all the time at this new hunting lodge?”
“Not all the time… I should still work at the firm a day or two during the month.”
“You’re going to quit your job!”
“We can afford it.”
“What about putting some money away for a later years?”
“We should enjoy the money while we are still young enough to enjoy it.”
“Sometimes I think I don’t know you.”
“You’re always so careful with the budget. Live a little.”
“We haven’t even got a check and the money is already changing you.”
“No it’s not. I’m the same old boy you married fifteen years ago.”
“What about my mother?”
“I didn’t marry your mother.” As soon as those words came out of Lawrence’s mouth, he knew he had went too far.
“I think you are on the sofa today, dear.”
“Top shelf… cabinet right next to the refrigerator. That’s where you’ll find your honey tonight.”
And Lydia went to bed.
Written for Creative Writing Now: Day 30.