Gravel

This week the writing slam was Gravel. We had about 12 minutes to think of whatever we could do with the word gravel. It was not the easiest word to work with, the slam had more revisions than any other slam so far. I still like the result.


The waitress gave the best half smile she could muster up at 3:17 in the morning. She was dressed in a stained yellow uniform with an apron that likely had been white at one point long past. Both had been marked with the stains of countless apple cobbler specials. Her nametag was faded and scratched. It simply said ‘erly’, the presumable ‘Bev’ having faded off long ago. erly was someone that had given up on all their dreams at least thirty years ago, judging by her hairstyle and makeup choices.

Barely able to keep her balance on the roller-skates thanks to the sticky surface of the diner and holding a half full pot of coffee. Far too slowly it sloshed in the pot, not keeping time with erly’s bad balance. It was thick with age and countless reheats.

She motioned towards his coffee cup and said with the voice of someone who had been around the block a few times while chain smoking a carton of cigarettes the entire ride. With a gravelly voice she spoke out.

“Can I top you off toots?”

He shook his head.


Fournimer: Trowing Stones

Fournimer: Trowing Stones

Fournimer: Throwing Stones

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