“Two-Minute Tuesdays” are a series of micro-stories written in five minutes or less. Consider them “public practice,” like that guy who shoots free throws in the park. Prompts are supplied at the bottom in case you want to try your own hand at one of them.
Some people watch porn. Some do smack. Some drink too much, or eat too little. Not me.
Me, I watch videos of industrial demolitions.
I don’t know exactly why. It has something to do with the moment that something breaks. On one side, a carefully-constructed monument of concrete and steel, home to years of memory and experience. On the other, rubble–an expanding cloud of dust and the shriek of rebar tearing from the slabs. It’s a moment of ecstasy for me, watching everything come down. She always thought it was a bit odd, catching me in the middle of the night, unable to sleep, watching grain elevators in Des Moines topple over again and again and again.
Fitting, then, that it ended the way it did.
I can pin down the moment exactly. One little phrase.
“Do you want me to stay?” she asked, at the end of our last big fight.
“I don’t know.” And the blasting caps went off, the explosive gelatin severed heart from heart, and we started our trip down toward the greedy mouths of bulldozers and backhoes.
(prompt: Write a monologue about a moment that someone regrets)