The morning Maxwell Henderson left Jess’s life was warm. A few stratus dabbled the crayon blue sky, and the pollen-filled breeze was replete with the chatter of playful fowl. While I had been itching to chase them since I’d awoke from my nap, being the loyal creature I am, I stuck close to her side. Despite being in a blissful mood to match the weather, I could not pretend to be ignorant of her despondence. She sat, legs crossed, lips pursed, on a white, wicker lawn chair on our front porch, the sharp features of her face twisted in an attempt to look irate when it was obvious she was trying as hard as she could not to cry.
She glared at him as he slinked out of his white pickup, that stupid truck that held so many memories, so many late nights parked in abandoned fields and on dirt roads under the stars. He walked with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, refusing to meet her eyes until he had shuffled up the steps and stood right in front of her.
“How long?” she spat through clenched teeth.
“Three months.”
“And…how many?”
“Two.” Lying at this point would have been as futile as trying to win her back, and while my opinion of him wouldn’t have put something that despicable past his character, even a conscious as weak as his was not capable of such callousness. At least he gave her the truth. Still, his going right out and saying it might not have been the gentlest way to go.
This revelation was a blow to her stomach, knocking her of her breath. I nuzzled closer to her and pressed my wet nose against her leg. She reached down and raked her fingers through my fur.
“I knew there was something wrong.” She laughed a little. A short, angry, hurt little laugh. “Little hints here and there kept telling me, warning me of your treachery. I tried to write them off, but last night the truth was there, staring me right in the face. Why,” she asked, standing. “Why would you ever stoop that low?”
He threw his hand behind his neck. “I don’t know what I was thinking, Jess. I’m sorry.”
“NO!” she screamed. Her voice shrank back down to a whisper; her hands trembled. “It’s too late for that.”
“We shouldn’t let this tear us apart,” he begged. “Things were going great, and you’ve said it before yourself. We’re like soulmates. We’re meant for each other, Jess. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I love you. This one thing…it was nothing. I didn’t know that it would hurt you this badly.”
“You didn’t know that it would hurt me?! This…this is not something you can belittle or just explain away. This is inexcusable. You went behind my back, you lied to me, and now you expect me to ever trust you again?”
I barked in support. Go Jess!
He was speechless. His soft, brown eyes bore into hers, sorrowful and pleading. I watched her anger melt a little, if for just a moment. These were the eyes she wrote sappy poems about in her secret journal and then read to me, her closest confidante; these were the eyes she gazed into dreamily right before she was swept into her magical first kiss (a kiss I’ve heard the details about way too many times).
She hardened. “I’m sorry. I just can’t forgive this.”
Maxwell’s eyes were red; he was teeter-tottering on the verge of tears. It was pathetic enough to make even me feel sorry for him. Slowly he backed away.
“Wait,” Jess called out to him. She grabbed his arm. “I love you, and I always will just a little. You were my first everything: my first date, my first boyfriend, my first kiss, my first love. I’m sorry we didn’t work out. I just don’t think I could trust you again after this, you know?”
This is where the tears finally turned on. “I’m sorry Max.”
He gave her one last, long look and broke away from her grip. “I’m sorry too.”
We watched his white pickup clank and sputter down the road until it turned the corner, and then it was gone forever. The warm breeze rustled my fur, but instead of making me feel light and happy like earlier, the atmosphere had taken on a melancholy mood.
She sat down in the dry, summer grass beside me. I lazily looked up to her, giving my best pitiful, puppy-dog expression.
“Why did he have to go behind my back and rob me of my joy? Do you know, Patch?” She nuzzled her nose into my coat of fur, and I felt her sorrow. I didn’t know. I would never understand why he did what he did.
“Two whole cans. He could have just asked me for the chocolate frosting. I might have even shared.”
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125,009 Literary Works • 672,837 Reviews
Dude, I never knew Mrs. Granger had this amazing talent of writing,too! Well, done!!
Hello hermione315,
You wrote a rather unusual story and I found myself liking it. Not only did you used a dog as a narrator which is an interesting and not seen perspective you also knock the reader's line of thought at the end, a plot twist indeed. These two facts are enough to catch the readers attention.
Props for writing something simple and yet funny, it feels like a breath of fresh air to read.
I absolutely adore this. I love how you built everything up and it was just about frosting. I'm still chuckling thinking about it. Amazing work
Hi Hemione!
I thought this was a really cute story. It seems very realistic, as if Max had done something very wrong. At the end, though, it was very funny that everything happened over two cans of chocolate frosting- it also explains the title! Very crafty. 
One thing I was wondering about was the "How long?" I'm not sure I understand that, even after finishing. Three months between cans? Three months ago he took/ate the frosting? It just seems rather unclear to me.
I also liked the narrator being a dog. It gives a nice sight, and you told us well that he (?) was a dog with the physical features, rather than just saying, "I am a dog."
I wouldn't really go with raked here. I get that Jess might be distressed and so maybe she doesn't stroke Patch, but I think that raked is more of an unpleasant feeling. Scratched would still convey her distress, I think, but it's still a normal way to pet a dog.
I believe that stratus clouds are low and thick, so I'm not sure if they're what you were thinking of in this situation. I just can't see them dabbling any sky. And if you want foul to be birds, I think it has to be spelled fowl? Or something like that, I think there are two different words. It just reads a little bit weirdly, so maybe you can look into it.
Anyway, this was a very entertaining read! I like your descriptions a lot, and I think your dialogue is pretty good as well. Great job with this!
-Falconer
What I meant by "three months" was that Max had been sneaking the frosting bit by bit from her secret stash for that long and over that period of time he had made it through two cans. The reason I added the time frame was because I wanted it to make to reader assume he'd been cheating on her for three months. Thanks for catching my typo with "fowl", and I'll look into your other suggestions. Thanks again for your review!
Ah, that makes sense now. It is how I read it the first time through, but I didn't quite see how it fit in after I saw what had really happened.
Again, very cute! ^-^