The following is based on an exercise in English 404, Creative Nonfiction, to write a 100-word essay. This is fiction.
Image by Corey Ryan Hanson from Pixabay
After waiting for hours, the blood had congealed on my hands. A reminder that the blood was not mine. It was hers.
She was once alive; now…she is gone, and I am waiting for an assuring message, someone to tell me it was all over so that I could go home.
But I know that’s not going to happen. The ER is just a way station, a rip in the fabric of my life. My head is throbbing, cheap tequila rising from my pores.
Consequences, they kept shouting at me while I waited for them; there are consequences.
I know.
Antonio Ruiz is an ex-junkie-alcoholic, former seminarian, one-time radio host-producer, past community organizer, continuing to be a media advocate, retired television reporter, ex-commission executive director, once a street vendor of jewelry and gloves, waitron (waiter to you), a former bartender who drank too much on the job, an ex-motorcycle courier who learned to ride a bike just for the job, ex-airport shuttle driver, former Entertainment news director-producer, the best time of my life, one-time live TV events red carpet producer-executive producer, ex-small business consultant, ex-youth media and journalism mentor, and now a college student who also has been married three times (thirds the charm), and just couldn't help living with two other women because well, that's part of my story.
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