The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day 223: Terry laughed. “Did it work?”
Terry laughed. “Did it work?”
“In a way, I suppose,” James admitted. “I no longer feel as bad about it at least.”
“But no runner’s high?” Terry asked.
“Runner’s high?”
“Yeah it is something my wife came across before I started with this. It was an article claiming runners sometimes reported a euphoric feeling akin to a high when they were running. It’s supposed to be an extra hidden benefit of exercising.”
“Maybe it was just a lack of oxygen like the designer couple,” James said.
“Designer…” Terry’s face creased in thought and then cleared as he realized who James meant. He laughed. “That’s good. I was just calling them the idiots from week one, but I like designer couple better.”
Terry gathered his things and moved off to the showers while James pulled his things into a bag and left the building. He felt good in his skin after his run. He knew he desperately needed a shower and suspected his body would feel the need to remind him that he over did it on the track come morning, but for now, he felt pretty good. He had done what he could for Cassie and could now leave it alone.
As he walked to his car, he wondered if he felt compelled to help her because she was the only one left from his childhood circle. His mother and stepbrothers were gone. If they reached out, he would have helped them. They didn’t because they thought he was dead. Helping Cassie was a fluke.
‘But Mom might have been an accident,’ James thought. He couldn’t actually see her being a part of whatever scheme was going on. He still wasn’t sure how to feel about any of their deaths. He felt no responsibility for them, but if there was grief it was taking its time coming. James decided not to poke the emptions too much and enjoy his, if not jolly mood, then at least peaceful one.
Realizing that the skipped lunch and late dinner made him feel a bit on the ravenous side, James got home, ordered himself a pizza and then jumped into a quick shower so he would be clean enough to eat when it arrived. He managed to dress and make it back down stairs, albeit with still damp hair by the time the driver pulled in behind his innocuous looking Ford. As always, there was a moment where James wondered if the delivery driver was who he claimed to be, but his tension drained away when he was simply handed the pizza and asked to sign for it.
As James closed the door, he wondered how long it would be before he no longer braced for another incident like the faux cable man every time someone came to the door. James put the pizza on the kitchen table and got a plate. He put a couple of slices on the plate and took it to the living room instead of eating in the kitchen. He navigated to the work television series he was following and added a few new episodes to his watched list as he ate, returning for a few more slices when his plate was empty.
When his belly was no longer complaining about the missed lunch and extra activity, James put the left overs away for breakfast and flopped back down on the couch. He still couldn’t face any form of action movie, gun fire now being something he’d rather avoid, so he navigated to a comedy instead to pass the time until bedtime. When the hour grew late, he turned everything off and went up to bed. He prayed that he wouldn’t dream.
Ten til Midnight 