Story Beginnings Exercise

Blind Date- In Media Res

I stood on the toilet, looking at the small window above it. I tried the lock, but it wouldn't open. I sighed and step down. I flush the toilet in case anyone else was in the bathroom and saw me step out of the stall without hearing the flush. I'm not unsanitary. Thankfully I'm alone, and I begin pacing back and forth in front of the mirror. The last thing I want to do is go back to the table, but if I wait much longer he'll probably start imagining all of the horribly embarrassing bodily functions that can happen when a person is in the bathroom for ten minutes. I can't just walk out of the restaurant because I left my purse at the table, so I wouldn't be able to get into my apartment, and even if I did it would be another reason for him to see me again, which I do not plan on doing. This looks so much easier in the movies. Usually the woman just excuses herself to the bathroom and never comes back. I didn't think people could actually get that disparate while on a date, but Dick has shown me otherwise.

Blind Date- Introduction

My name is Sarah, and I'm twenty five years old, my favorite color is purple and an interesting fact about myself is that I hate coming up with "interesting" facts about myself. My go-to fact is that I have a dog that can high five, though Charlie stopped listening to me years ago and pretty much sits on the floor. I think him and Dick would get along just fine. Dick is the guy my friend Rachel set me up on a blind date with. His real name is Richard but I don't like him much so I've started calling him Dick in my head. Rachel said she knew him from work, but he must be her coworker's brother's lame friend from high school, because no one like that would be allowed to work at First Bank. I mean, just look at him. He's balding but still combs his thin brown hair as if he hasn't noticed, his shirt has a blob of an orange and brown stain near the pocket, which is starting to fray. He ordered ribs and by the way he looks his food I have no doubt that the stain is dried barbecue sauce from his last date. I can barely eat my own food, a giant piece of barbecue chicken with a side of curly fries, because I'm so distracted by the way he eats his food. Picking up bone after bone, ripping the flesh off with his teeth like an animal, not even bothering to wipe his hands or face in between pieces, though why would you use a napkin when your mouth works just fine? And still, he tries to talk. I can hardly look at him. Between all of the chewing and sucking he's managed to ask a few questions, though he doesn't seem very interested in my answers, the first one being' "so, tell me something interesting about yourself." I keep thinking of some way to escape, like going to the bathroom and never coming back, though the bathroom in this place is probably disgusting as well.