Farther than I Meant to Go Longer than I Meant to Stay

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English

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North American (General)

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farther than I meant to go longer than I meant to stay. A novel by Tiffany L. Warren. I gazed blankly at the television screen after losing my career to Travis's criminal activities. I had no idea what to do with myself all day. I had no desire to start searching for another job. The whole idea was depressing. I chose instead to stay home and watch television ministers all day long. And between tv church broadcast, I cooked. I had been doing so much dieting that I had forgotten how comforting food was. I totally rediscovered the joy of food. Yes, I lost £15 but that didn't even matter. Being skinny was no longer a priority. Not when my heart was broken and my life was in ruins. During Joyce Meyers broadcast, I heard a car pull up in my driveway. I peeked out of the window and saw the next little red car. I didn't want to see her or anybody else for that matter. Maybe she didn't catch the hint when I didn't answer the phone when she called or respond to any of her voicemail messages, I just wanted to be left alone. I heard a banging on the door like a bill collector, but I didn't answer. She's not for a good 10 minutes before she left, I inhaled the scent of the chocolate cake I was baking. It was intoxicating. I made it especially sweet, so sweet that it was going to make my teeth hurt. It would be good with milk, but I was out of milk. It was going to have to be coffee. I opened the refrigerator and realized that I needed a lot more than milk. It seemed like I'd just been to the store. But it had been two whole weeks. I was going to have to venture out again, but I'd wait until it was night. I would go to the 24 hours saving. Go grocery stores were so peaceful at two o'clock in the morning and best of all, I wouldn't run into anybody I knew since Travis got me fired from my job. I've seen two members from my church. Of course they knew all about me being fired. One of the problems with having bishops and pastors as the board of directors at the bank is that they all had wives and some of them had nothing better to do than gossip about someone else's bad fortune. Well, I realized that not running into people wasn't going to be very easy when the two I did see started offering condolences, like one of my loved ones that I almost expected them to hand me a pot of spaghetti and some cold chicken. People always brought the most unappetizing food to the houses of the grieving, I wish the cake would hurry up and bake. I needed my sugar fix. That sounded like an addict. Speaking of addicts, I wondered if Travis was addicted to porn, I never would have taken him for that type. When I thought of men who indulged in pornography. I envisioned greasy, slimy looking characters who went out in the shadows and he had their dirty secret in garages and under beds. Maybe I had driven him to it. Maybe he was sick of looking at my fat rose and wanted to see some folks who weren't twice his size. I guess. I couldn't blame him for that. But why did he have to put it on my laptop unless he was trying to get me fired? And it didn't make any sense. But then a lot of things weren't making much sense to me. The cake had another 20 minutes to go and then it had to cool off. But I didn't think I could wait that long. I poured myself a huge glass of Pepsi. I grabbed eight ice cubes out of the freezer and placed them in a glass. When I went to reach for it though I slipped and I ripped it off the counter, the glasswork into 100 little pieces and Pepsi splattered everywhere. Tears sprang to my eyes. It was my favorite glass. Still, the sound it made when it felt I liked it. It was loud and kind of sharp. That sound made me feel good. Even better than a slice of chocolate cake. Even better than that glass of soda I would have tasted. I ran my hand across my arm and there were goose bumps before I could stop myself. I grew up another glass and then another one. It felt good. I even saw the blood on my bare feet, but where I stepped on a piece, but I didn't feel any pain. I ran out of glasses, but I still wanted to break something. I didn't want the feeling to go away.