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Matthew Allard is an author, freelance writer, and Internet geek. Some of his stories were inspired by illustrations from Ian Dingman and made into a book called To Slow Down The Time.

This is his blog.

Other Planets

“We could be catastrophic,” Leonard once wrote on the tiny magnetic chalkboard that hung from the refrigerator door. It was a song lyric. The stick of white chalk crumbled in his fist as he wrote it. “That’s how much I love you.”

The night before, he had gotten home late. Too late. He’d played video games with Martin and Clifford after work. He’d lost track of time. The three men, each rapidly approaching thirty years, played video games some evenings. This was their way to blow off steam, laugh. Leonard missed dinner, and he forgot to call.

It had been a couple of weeks since moving in together, but Leonard still endured a slight shock whenever he entered his bedroom and found another person there. Sylvia had had her bare back to him as he crept in. She slept on her side like a slightly bowed plank of wood. She said nothing and she did not stir. He was thankful not to wake her, and in the morning he rose early to write her the message. It was his opening argument for the court battle he expected was to come. It was a hopeful softening for the punishment he expected he deserved as a bad boyfriend. He put the coffee on. He took two large eggs from the refrigerator door.

Sylvia came into the kitchen dressed for work.

“Is this for me?”

She set her purse on the small dining table, one leather arm drooping to reveal its contents. Her things threatened to spill out beside the plate of scrambled eggs and orange slices that Leonard had prepared. Steam still rose from a mug of coffee.

“It’s just a little breakfast,” Leonard told her, tentatively.

“That’s very sweet, Leo,” Sylvia said. She said, “I’d love the coffee, but I’ll be late if I don’t leave right this moment.”

“Have the coffee in the car?”

“I will,” she said. Then, after quickly squeezing the meat of his shoulder, she was gone.

By evening, the chalkboard message was gone as well. Leonard paused in front of the refrigerator door. Without a word, Sylvia had taken her palm to eradicate the note. The white chalk was misty and smeared. She’d started to make a grocery list in its place. She wanted apple juice, creamer, baking soda, and cleanser for the bathtub.

  1. inducedfantasy reblogged this from chippednails
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  4. examplesofconfusion said: Have you read Sylvia by Leonard Michaels?
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  6. This was featured in #Prose
  7. vernonrossmd said: I like this, Matt, the title especially.
  8. lifeserial posted this