How The Tables Have Turned Novels & Stories

He was looking at me looking at the room. I felt this without turning. Then I turned. He was watching me with the expression he wore when something was happening that he was giving its full space. "Our table," I said. He offered me his arm. We walked in. --- The table by the window was ours. Reserved. Our name on the small card that restaurants used to hold tables for people they were expecting. I sat in my chair. The same chair. The city outside the window. The same view. I looked at it.

What did I just say and why? "Oh, I will. The table seems good. So perfect and different from the others. It has everything I need. I'm shocked that you would leave." I fold my fists watching Claire smirk. "Well, maybe the table isn't that good. It just wants you to think it is. It seems decent from the start but fucks up and you have no other option but to leave it even though it shatters you apart or maybe staying will wreck you even more." She blinks back and so do I.

"Were you?" Mr. Dallas continued, "Julia?" "Alex? " Julia laid the pressure on me. What was Julia's deal and why did she seem so immersed in a battle that wasn't hers in the first place? "Hmm, " Mr. Dallas adjusted for comfort, "There's something we call 'The Last Card', in cases like this, where the situation seems unclear, we refrain from any form of action until our 'suspect' here isn't proven otherwise. Then we can take action. We can flip the last card. "

THE MASSIVE TURNAROUND Ryan lay on his bed, his mind racing with thoughts. He couldn't believe what he had just heard from Mrs. Williams. It was as if a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. He was finally free from the shackles of the Williams family. Ryan lay on his bed with a smile on his face. He was happy about the conversation he had just had with Mrs Williams. He felt like he was out of the prison he had been put in. Now, all he needed to do was wait for a day or two before he told them that he had gotten a new job.

Shania and I decided on Samuel Turner, a marketing manager at Shania's company. Samuel was younger than Lucille and about six years younger than me. I had gotten to know him through a random dinner event in the past. I had formed a deep impression of him because of his good looks and how smart he was at handling all sorts of situations. Later on, I got to know from Shania that he was also very competent at work. He had managed to get his position as marketing manager within a year of joining the company.

I asked, "Have you heard of people biting the hand that feeds them? Do you think I'll save you a second time after being bitten once?" She stared at me in horror, like I was a monster. "You've been lying to me this whole time!" I smiled and said, "Congratulations on guessing correctly! You love lying to people, so it's time for you to get a taste of your own medicine. Isn't it nice?" Wanda screamed in rage. Then, she choked to death as blood gurgled in her throat. She stared at me in horror and disbelief as she died. I'd had the same look on my face when dying in my past life. Now, I'd gotten back at her for everything she did to me. She'd repaid the debt she owed me.

The man's face flushed with embarrassment as he quickly backed away, retreating to the back of the crowd. "Pregnant women are already prone to complications. If any of you are willing to take responsibility for her, I'll arrange a table right now," I said, scanning the room. When I met their eyes, they quickly looked away. I sneered internally. Just moments ago, they were all standing on their moral high ground. But as soon as they were asked to take responsibility, none of them dared to speak up. Just when I thought I had managed to avoid Zoey's miscarriage in my restaurant, Laurence suddenly shoved me.

After Emma went into the kitchen, Talia absentmindedly sat on the couch. She looked at the coffee table, which had once been covered with diapers, formula cans, and baby bottles. Now, it held flowers, packets of coffee powder, and a few fashion magazines. Without a doubt, Nancy had likely brewed herself a cup of coffee and sat here flipping through those magazines. Christian's gaze followed Talia as she stared at the coffee table, lost in thought. He couldn't resist asking, "What's wrong? Don't like the coffee table?"

My stomach dropped—a sickening lurch of gravity. "That's just changing the predator. The hunger remains the same." "It's our turn!" "No," I said firmly. I stepped into his personal space. I felt the heat radiating from his skin. "The cycle is over. The machine is broken. We don't rebuild the Throne, Kaine. We build a Table." "A table?" He sneered. "With the Ensi? With the butchers?" "With everyone who has a pulse and a will to build." Kaine shook his head. His eyes were red-rimmed, the pupils erratic. He realized the crowd was stabilizing. He realized they were tracking my movements, not his words.

I held out hope for the little girls who were still clinging to each other under the table, that they wouldn't be found. I remained where I was, helpless and unable to do anything to salvage the situation. Nothing would work because we were in the past. The girls trembled, eyes darting about wildly as they fought to remain quiet, pressing their pale fingers over their mouths, while listening to the rogues upturn everything they'd grown to know. Having wrecked the entire place, there was only one stone left unturned, the place where I hoped would go unchecked. It was no rocket science, like the humans would say, because it was the only table standing upright in the whole room.