Trash Drawing Novels & Stories

"Pack up your things. Leave the key in the flowerpot by the door. You don't need to come here anymore, Ms. Armstrong." His voice was cold, and he left just as decisively. The sound of the door closing was heavier than usual. I turned on my phone. On the screen was a photo of Jared and me together. No long dresses, no jewelry. Both of us were in suits, with perfectly measured smiles on our faces and gold-rimmed glasses on our noses. It looked like the "Employee of the Month" photos that hung in office hallways. Jared was right. We really were very similar.

"Can we please start over?" I looked at his fake, desperate face and felt nothing but disgust. Calmly, I asked, "Hey, Liam. Do you know anything about sorting garbage?" He was caught off guard. "What?" I pointed at him. "You… are the hazardous waste I threw out. I have a bit of an obsession with cleanliness. Once I throw something away, I never pick it up again." His expression shifted from pleading to shame and anger. He wanted to say more, but I turned and walked away, leaving my bodyguards to stop him behind me.

I deleted the conversation entirely. Trash belongs in the bin.

A backstabbing ingrate! Another crisp smack echoed harshly in the empty hall. The other side of Jim's face quickly swelled up. I didn't look at him again. My icy gaze passed right through him and landed directly on Anne, who was cowering behind him. I walked up to her slowly and looked down at her. As I loomed over her, I smirked coldly. My voice was gentle as I said, "How kind-hearted you are, Annie. You can even happily pick up the trash that I, Cecilia Forrest, throw away. Not only that, you've even managed to create a 'miracle of love' with it."

Even she hadn't known she was capable of this—of pulling herself together so quickly in such a short time. Seeing that she wasn't angry at him anymore over this, Cedric suddenly remembered what he'd seen earlier in the courtyard. He asked, "What were you burning out there just now?" "Some old stuff I don't need anymore. It had some personal information on it, and I didn't feel safe just throwing it out, so I burned it." He nodded, not thinking much of it. He only bent down slightly and scooped her up in his arms. Olivia was startled and almost couldn't stop herself from pushing him away.

I stood to leave, but Alfred slammed his hand on the table. "Wait. I have something to show you." He pulled out a crumpled piece of paper. I unfolded it—my childhood wish list. Back in elementary school, our teacher had us write down our biggest dreams. Most kids wrote a sentence. I filled a whole page. Alfred smiled, tapping the paper. "Honey, don't divorce me. I'll make these dreams come true, one by one, okay?

The Trash Bin was a graveyard of broken dreams. Everywhere I looked, there were mountains of crumpled paper and discarded ideas. The sky was a flat, dull gray, like a computer screen that had been turned off. I held Elle close to me, her small hands trembling against my waist.

Between that and the trade-in, we’ll see what they offer. I head downstairs and straight to the garage. First things first, cleaning out the van. Old fries. Cold nuggets. Crushed crackers. Random toys. Receipts. I shake my head as I toss everything into the trash. I vacuum it out with the shop vac, doing my best to make it presentable. I want no excuses when it’s time to negotiate. I check the time. Not even 8:30 yet. I’m finishing up when I reach under the passenger seat. Something catches. A piece of fabric. I pull it once, twice, then harder.

His hands were shamelessly shaking even though he had been trying to calm down all this while. “Sit down.” Mrs. Park ordered just when she released her eyes from the jaws of the ceiling. Immediately after Travis had obeyed the order, Mrs. Park took a big, black plastic garbage bag behind her chair and tossed it in Travis's legs. Tiny pieces of dirt fell on his feet — toilet papers all wriggled on his feet. “Care to explain, Travis?” Mrs. Park growled quietly as she leaned back against her chair while carefully analysing Travis's movements.

I heard him huff, but no sound of movement. In the bedroom, I yanked open the bottom drawer of my dresser — the one I'd been meaning to clean out for months. Trevor's old clothes. I'd kept telling myself I'd donate them, or burn them, or use them as rags. Instead they'd just... sat there. Well. At least now they'd be useful. I grabbed a pair of gray sweatpants and a black t-shirt. Trevor wasn't small, but looking at the man on my living room floor, I had a feeling these might be tight.