Update! Reader voting for best contemporary, the category in which Afterglow was nominated, begins March 17 and runs through March 23.
You can vote HERE
Because Afterglow was nominated for a RONE award this week, I've gone back and dug out one of my favorite snips from the story. Mitch and India have become friends--and maybe, just maybe, Mitch is looking for more
Here's the snippet--
“How’s Allie?” Mitch asked the next day when I went to pick up more shoes.
“I told her it was hard. I was pretty upset when my parents
“That was a long time ago.”
“And you get over it. I was totally annihilated when my
marriage split, but I got past it. It’s been two years now.”
“You were married? And divorced?”
Mitch nodded as he opened the door to his storage room. “Yup. You’re in good company. I know what it’s like to be the walking wounded.”
“What other secrets are you keeping from us, Dr. Tinker?”
Mitch turned on the light and stood holding the pull string. “Not that many,” he said softly. “No more than your average guy. If you stick around, I’ll share a few with you.” He smiled, but there was a hint of something else in his eyes, concern maybe, or longing. It matched my feelings and that made me a little uncomfortable.
“Like what, for instance?” I said, wanting to melt the discomfort away. It worked. The smile rose into his eyes .
“I’ll tell one if you will,” he said.
“I like gravy on my French fries,” I said.
“Yummy. I sing along with my iPod when I’m alone.”
“What kind of music?”
“Springsteen, mostly. No fair, that’s two. You owe me one.”
“The River is one of my favorite albums.”
“And?” he raised his eyebrows, waiting.
“Okay. I really like to finger paint. And sometimes after school I paint at a kid’s art easel.”
“Landscapes or portraits?”
“Portraits mostly. Your turn.”
“I still watch Scooby Doo.”
“Hallmark commercials make me cry.”
“I had a huge crush on you when I was ten.” The room went very still and we stood there staring at each other. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s fine. You’re not ten anymore. Heck, I’m not thirty anymore.”
“I have changed considerably. You haven’t. Not really. Not that much.” He turned towards the shoes. “So, how many boxes do you think your trunk can hold?”
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