The Beginning of Her Short Story

She had her own apartment now. The word "apartment" seemed strangely literal, just as it did cheap and incongruous. In this town apartments were where young people lived, on their way to something else, getting by. But just as it was to them, it was also exciting. You could jump. Couldn't you?

Her eyes, taking in the new bedroom, gravitated to the white corner of the ceiling. There were three clear planes interlocking into one point. If she stared directly at the point long enough it seemed to be pointing out toward her. This would, of course, collapse the room. It could be painted, she mused, without any careful attention, without making it unrecognizable. One could forget what it looked like--it was simply a matter of imagining a problem of perspective and lighting. It would be an image from which those rules would be clear and uncomplicated. And yet, it could pop out at you.

She sprawled herself onto the bed.

She had come all this way to rest.

Author's Note

The title: "Her Short Story" or "A Short Story"?

Reviews

[Sam Cambell]

You did a really good job describing her thought process about the apartment. Oftentimes our brains associate things with words and lapse into thinking about something totally random (staring at a corner, for instance), and this story did a good job converying that. I'd like to know the rest of the story, though, because what you have here is like a board on a shelf. You've made an amazing carving on it, but it could be so much better if you built it up higher. I'd love to here the story behing this and what happens next.