I guess I'm feeling a little brave today

Because I'm going to let you all read a bit of a story I've been writing. I don't have a name nor do I know how long it will be...

“…and he broke up with you? Just like that?”
I nodded my head solemnly; I had just put a bite of Florentine omelet in my mouth.
“What an ass. You’re better off without him, sweetie,” Ethan said.
It was a beautiful morning and I was having breakfast with two of my best friends. I had just told them about the not-so-beautiful message on my machine, the one in which I had been dumped. The heartbreaker was Adam; we had been together for four months.
“But he wasn’t an ass,” I said, “he was sweet and funny and incredibly good looking.”
I stared into my glass of orange juice but I could feel Natalie’s eyes burning holes in me.
“Sweet? He broke up with you via voicemail!”
“Well, except for that whole fiasco, he was sweet,” I replied. “Anyway, I’ll never get over him if we keep talking about it so can we move on, please?”
“Yes! I’m having a housewarming party next Saturday,” Ethan announced. “I’m registered at Pottery Barn and Williams Sonoma.”
“Ethan, you’ve lived in that apartment for three years.”
That was Natalie, always the voice of reason.
“I know, but I want new things. Have you seen the new Williams Sonoma catalog?!”
“No Ethan, I haven’t. Some of us are on a budget,” I reminded him with a smile.
“Are you seriously having a housewarming party? Do you really think that people will buy you pots and pans and believe that you just moved into your apartment?” Natalie asked as she cut her Belgian waffle.
Ethan looked at Natalie, “Ok, Debbie Downer, stop raining on my parade! People will come and they will bring me fabulous presents! Half of the people that I’ve invited have only known me for a few months anyway, they don’t know how long I’ve lived there.”
Natalie went back to her waffle while Ethan and I finished our breakfasts. I looked at my watch.
“Oh my God! It’s almost ten o’clock! I have to be at the office in five minutes!”
I left ten dollars with them and told Natalie that I’d call later that afternoon to decide on a gift for Ethan’s housewarming. I made my way out of the café and started walking the three blocks to my office. My black heels were pounding on the pavement. It sounded as though a horse was trotting down the sidewalk. I walked past the string of small shops that Natalie and I frequented on the weekends. I noticed that one of our favorite vintage shops was getting a makeover. I stared inside as I kept walking.
Then it happened.
One of the men inside the building opened the door just as I was walking by. My new dress and I were knocked to the ground.
“Oh, damn!” he exclaimed as he rushed around to me.
I opened my eyes and saw a man with messy brown hair and beautiful blue eyes leaning over me. He was wearing a Ramones t-shirt and a five o’clock shadow.
“Are you ok?” he asked.
By this time, all of the workers that were inside the shop were now standing around me.
I let out a heavy breath. “Yea, I think I’m ok.”
He helped me up and over to a nearby bench, apologizing profusely.
“No really, it’s ok. I’ll be alright,” I said as I stood up and ran my hands over my hair. “Thanks for helping me. I should be going, I’m late for work.”
I kept walking. Truth be known, I had a splitting headache. As I walked through the glass doors, I greeted the receptionist and headed for my cubicle.
“You’re late!” A voice bellowed.
“I was doored. I would have been on time.”
The excuse sounded completely made up but I didn’t care, my head was killing me.
“I don’t care what happened; just get me that article by five o’clock.”
I was delightfully surprised by this response. Mr. Lee was well known for not tolerating tardiness. My laptop was already out and I noticed that there were several dates marked on my calendar that had not been there previously. (Mr. Lee was also known for marking dates on other people’s calendars.) Apparently I was going to a “Hot New Band” show on August 2nd. I was less than thrilled. In my experience, “hot new band” meant “college kids who have been playing together for two weeks.” I looked over the rest of the dates as I pulled an Advil out of my purse. The events that I was scheduled to report on didn’t seem bad, I was almost excited.
Thankfully, the article was almost half-way done. It was an interview and story about the up-and-coming band, Drunk Insight. I finished rather quickly, turned it in to Mr. Lee, and made my way home. When I got there, a note was taped to my door. It read, “I’m sorry. I didn’t know any other way to do it. –Adam”
Great. Not only did he dump me via voicemail, but now he was apologizing with notes on my door. I decided to ignore it. My head was hurting too bad; I couldn’t comprehend his bizarre ways of communication right now. A cup of hot tea with lemon and Three’s Company on DVD were my best friends that afternoon.

I apologize for Blogger's unwillingness to keep things formatted the way that I had them.