"Burst" Writing

Prompt: Write a short story in which one character reduces another to uncontrollable sobs without touching or speaking to the person.

264 days. He had boarded the planes and left for Afghanistan 264 days ago. 324 days ago he had gotten down onto his bad knee and promised me a lifetime of happiness and love as long as I said a simple three letter word. 324 days ago he scooped me into his arms and placed the ring on my finger and I couldn't stop smiling for who knows how much time. 323 days ago we were lying together in our small apartment overlooking the city and he promised me the world, a life for the two of us. He promised me a family, 2 boys and a girl, that we could watch grow up. To scold when they would take home a grade we knew could be better or to praise when they won an award or scored a goal. He promised me a new home, in the suburbs so the kids could run and play but still close to the city we were both raised in. A big, pale blue house with a giant kitchen and a porch that wrapped around the front, a place where I could drink a cup of coffee and watch the sun rise. The back yard would be surrounded by a white picket fence, keeping our dog on our property and out of the flowers. 323 days ago we planned our forever, our lives and how we could share them. But 6 days ago, the soldier came to up to the door of our little apartment, dog tags and a letter in his hands. He didn't have to speak, or open his lips, or even look me in the eye. I knew, tears flowing from my eyes, muffled sobs escaping my lips. He did not have to move for me to know, that in that very instant, forever was over. 

Irony

It was an everyday routine. The alarm would begin its annoying yet effective beeping at exactly 5:27 a.m., which allows me about three minutes to stare up into the darkness as my ceiling fan swings in circles. After the three minutes pass, I’d crawl into the bathroom about 100 feet away and hop in the shower, usually taking about 12 minutes. After I had finished in the shower, I’d dry my hair, it’s length and thickness taking up about 20 minutes of my time. Make up normally took about nine minutes, and I’d spend about six minutes dressing myself in the plain clothes that I had placed on my dresser the night before. Never anything fancy or nice, as it would often end up getting dirty and being covered by the heavy suit if we got the call. After I finished getting dressed, I’d walk about 300 feet into the small apartment kitchen where it would take four minutes to make a pot of coffee and pour it into a travel cup, then climb into my car. The station was only 5 minutes away, so if I remained on task and got ready as I did everyday, I’d get to work with a few minutes to spare before my shift would start.

I always had everything planned out. My days were always mapped out, strategically set up so everything went perfectly, as planned. I was always perfect. I’d sit at the my desk waiting for the phone to ring, usually an older woman who needed her cat rescued from a tree, but occasionally we’d have to send the trucks out or an ambulance to the scene of a nearby accident. I stood in the small kitchen, making myself some breakfast. I never would usually leave my desk while on duty, but my lunch break wasn’t for a while today and I was more hungry than usual. I may or may not have decided to pour myself a glass of wine, and then another, but really I can’t remember. As I may or may not have been pouring my third glass, I heard the faint ring of the phone in the other room, and I sprinted to my desk to answer it. Bus accident and few miles away, many injured and 2 dead so far. I dispatched the ambulances, then sat at my desk relieved my change in schedule hadn’t cost anyone a life or me to miss the call. I walked back into the kitchen to find if engulfed in flames.  

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