Writing Prompt Wednesday is cribbed directly from Honestly Austen, whose site you should visit immediately, because her writing is lovely.
I prefer a nice, short prompt, so I poked around the internet for a while until I found Rooftop Writing Prompts. And there’s nothing I like more than opening a scene with dialogue. So, here we goooo!
“Stop telling me how to live my life!”
“I’m your conscience,” Vicky said. “That’s my job.”
David wanted to kick something, or maybe flip a table. But this was Vicky’s house and she liked heavy oak furniture, and there’s nothing more embarassing than trying to flip a piece of furniture only to realize it’s too heavy for you to lift, so for now he stuck to pacing.
“It doesn’t hurt anyone,” he finally said. “I don’t see the problem.”
Vicky closed her eyes, briefly. Now, she probably could flip the table, and she was looking pissed enough to try.
“David, I know I’m your ex and maybe you don’t really care what I have to say–”
“Of course I care.”
“Then prove it,” she said. “Just shut up and hear me, okay? Because it’s hurting you.”
David folded his arms across his chest, trying not to notice he could feel the ribs now, that he’d lost a little more weight than he’d realized.
“I have it under control.”
“Said every fucking addict ever–David, just because you’re a fucking doctor doesn’t mean you’re magically immune to getting hooked on pills.”
“Fuck you.” It came out low, savage, more venemous than he’d even intended. “You have no idea–”
“I do, actually.” She stood up and came around the table, touched his shoulder. He shook her off, but then she grabbed his shirt and yanked him around to face her. “You’ve always been depressed–”
She gave him a strange look. “You really believe that, don’t you?”
“Why wouldn’t I?”
Suddenly her whole face crumpled, and for a second he thought she was going to cry.
“Okay.” Her voice was quiet. “Whatever you say.”