David R Piper - Male First Person Romantic Fiction Demo
Description
Read MoreVocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Middle Aged (35-54)Accents
North American (General) North American (US General American - GenAM) North American (US Midwest- Chicago, Great Lakes)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
when did this go so wrong? I felt around until I snagged the towel from the rack on the wall near the sink and used it to wipe in my face, the apartment door slammed and I stood there shaking, feeling confused. She essentially made sure I was fired and even seemed happy about it because she loved having something to dangle over my head and now she was furious about it. Miranda hadn't stood up for me at work or to her boss, she'd be the one to fill out the paperwork to get me canned. My brother titus had warned me last year before I moved in with her. Getting into bed with my supervisor was a bad idea, but I thought she loved me. Plus when she wasn't angry, she was so pretty and sweet. She was almost like two different people blinking my eyes open. I fixated on coy where I floated in the water dead. It was stupid. He was only a fish. But the friendly white beta was very, very gone from this life. I scooped him up, couldn't stand the thought of flushing him. So I wrapped him in TP and carefully took him outside the building with an ache in my heart. I shivered in the winter air and buried him in a potted plant beside the front doors while mint tortured by nose back inside. I took a quick shower carefully soaping up my chest. I've lost some of my muscle in the last year because Miranda would blow up my phone every time I tried to go to the gym and she would let me have weights in the apartment because they were clutter. I knew I still looked okay but were the changes in me while she decided I was the enemy. I just couldn't understand what I'd done to make her hate me so much. Part of me was stunned. Just like every time she did something mean somewhere deep in my gut was rage. Somehow. These things were always my fault and at the end of it all I just felt confused and like ****. When I got out of the shower I dried off then wrapped the thin pink towel from the rack around my waist. I went to our bedroom and all frilly and girly with long pink curtains and sequined pillow cases I didn't like because they scratched me when I tried to lie on them and opened my laptop on the bed, putting on my headphones, I adjusted my microphone close to my mouth. The familiar icon of the recording program settled me a bit and I clicked on the tiny microphone. The curtains were open on the window opposite me and I had a view of the wall on the other building. Not exactly inspiring. The sun was going down and gloom crept into all the corners of the room while I sat there. Coy had been a good fish as far as they went and Miranda hadn't even cared. He wasn't okay sighing. I adjusted my mic again. What would it be like to be with the person I thought Miranda was when we moved in together, someone who thought I was nice and funny and maybe liked me back as much as I liked them? What would it be like to have someone who would help me when I was struggling instead of kicking me down?