{"id":3142,"date":"2017-05-09T03:12:06","date_gmt":"2017-05-09T03:12:06","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/?p=3142"},"modified":"2017-05-09T03:12:06","modified_gmt":"2017-05-09T03:12:06","slug":"crazy","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/crazy\/","title":{"rendered":"Crazy by T. E. Cowell"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/h2>\n

Crazy<\/h2>\n

by T. E. Cowell<\/p>\n

\n

She said, \u201cThis is crazy.\u201d She looked at me. \u201cIsn\u2019t this crazy?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shrugged. I thought that, sure, maybe it was a little crazy. But I thought it was exciting, too. Crazy or not, I thought it might be crazier if we parted ways and never saw each other again. I was about to say something to this effect when she said, \u201cI mean, we don\u2019t even know each other. I know nothing about you.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know a few things,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n

I could tell she was thinking then, remembering.<\/p>\n

We\u2019d met in a bar the night before. We\u2019d enjoyed each other\u2019s company enough to have a few drinks together. After the drinks I followed her back to her apartment. We had a good time, and I ended up staying the night. In the morning I made breakfast, an egg scramble for both of us.<\/p>\n

Now we were in her car in her apartment\u2019s parking lot. She was debating driving me to the bus station, and I was thinking about where I wanted to go next, which city, but I couldn\u2019t make up my mind. I felt I could use a break from traveling, and felt weary at the thought of continuing on with this vagabond lifestyle. I\u2019d been living this way for almost a year now, and it was starting to affect me. The idea of settling down somewhere, of finding an apartment and a girlfriend, a job, of getting into an agreeable routine, didn\u2019t seem like such a bad idea to me now.<\/p>\n

I wanted to stay with this young woman and see how things went. But I couldn\u2019t tell her this; somehow it just didn\u2019t seem right. It was her life I\u2019d be barging in on, not the other way around. Still, I knew I\u2019d miss her if she left me, knew it\u2019d hurt if she drove me to the bus station and we said sayonara and never saw each other again.<\/p>\n

She was about to start the engine, to turn the key. Her hand was on the key. I didn\u2019t think I could take much more of this.<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t,\u201d I said. \u201cPlease.\u201d<\/p>\n

I looked at her and she looked at me. Neither of us looked away from each other for quite a long time.<\/p>\n

###<\/p>\n

T. E. Cowell lives in Washington state. When not working or writing, he enjoys playing some intense ping-pong with his girlfriend. His fiction’s been published here and there. This particular story, in slightly different form, first appeared in Across the Margin.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

She said, \u201cThis is crazy.\u201d She looked at me. \u201cIsn\u2019t this crazy?\u201d<\/p>\n

I shrugged. I thought that, sure, maybe it was a little crazy. But I thought it was exciting, too. Crazy or not, I thought it might be crazier if we parted ways and never saw each other again.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":3143,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_bbp_topic_count":0,"_bbp_reply_count":0,"_bbp_total_topic_count":0,"_bbp_total_reply_count":0,"_bbp_voice_count":0,"_bbp_anonymous_reply_count":0,"_bbp_topic_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_reply_count_hidden":0,"_bbp_forum_subforum_count":0,"om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_uf_show_specific_survey":0,"_uf_disable_surveys":false,"footnotes":"","_links_to":"","_links_to_target":""},"categories":[273],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-3142","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-short-short"],"aioseo_notices":[],"amp_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3142","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=3142"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3142\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":3144,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/3142\/revisions\/3144"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/3143"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=3142"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=3142"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.everywritersresource.com\/shortstories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=3142"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}