There are four stories below. Two are true and two are fiction. The first person to guess them all correctly gets a special feature story written about them or the winner can choose the topic that all three of my posts will be for a week -- whichever you like. Leave your guesses in the comments.
"It's over," I said.
Crying, she handed me a story. It was beautiful and touching, written from a place of true love. She thought I had written it for her. I didn't know the author.
How could she think something so beautiful had come from me?
I am a monster.
Thanksgiving with his ex-girlfriend's family sounded better than Thanksgiving alone. We could pretend to be happy one last time.
She ran to him at full speed and leapt into his arms. He realized his mistake. How do you explain to a two-year-old that you'll never see her again?
It was a black cat with white splotches on its face and paws. She named him Boots. I smiled when I saw how relaxed they both were when he sat in her lap and purred. In the end, it was only he who got to stay. I hate cats.
Feeling dehydrated and disoriented, I looked up from the toilet, wiping my mouth. I opened the stall door.
She was looking at me in the mirror. "Damn. I'm in the ladies room," I thought.
"I think we'll be skipping the good night kiss," she said.