Intros but no endings

For some reason I’ve always liked coming up with beginnings of fictional stories but never follow through on the endings. Maybe the beginning is the easiest part to write and since I’m not a novelist I never sit down to work through a story to put together the entire sandwich.

Here’s one I wrote when I was probably about 16 (a guess). Looks like an incident at a car wash or garden hose was on the brain:

He grabbed the nozzle from her, despite the fact that it was on high pressure. Not thinking, he blasted freezing water at her, pelting her eyes, nose and ears and slapping her good work clothes to the sides of her thin body.

“Shit, Mark!” she screamed. “You fucking blasted my contacts right off my eyes!”

Walking home, tears streamed down her cheeks. Blurred memories and vision (that asshole) made it even worse to see where she was going. To the fucking eye doctor for shit’s sakes to get more contact lenses. Why did he do things like that, she wondered. Shit.

(And, scene.)

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