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Thank you

The red button on the recorder went click. The reporter set it on the table and slid back in his chair, licking the tip of his pen out of habit as he flipped his notebook to a new page. He crossed his legs.

“First of all I want to thank you for agreeing to this interview, Miss Kinney” he said with a smile. “It’s an honor being able to speak to you like this.”

She returned his smile, sitting forward in her chair. “It’s my pleasure, Mr. Tanner. I know you’ve been trying for a while.”

He scribbled on his notepad as she spoke, his eyes never leaving her for more than half a second. From her angle she could almost see what he was writing. It looked like some form of shorthand, all soft curves and smooth transitions.

Seeing the direction of her gaze, his smile turned lopsided for a moment and he adjusted, tilting the notebook just that much further away.

“To start us off, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself.”

She sighed and leaned back, boredom already beginning to set in as she began listing off various ‘interesting’ points along her life story.

Mr. Tanner cleared his throat, “I apologize for interrupting. I do love listening to you talk, but I’d like something a bit more personal. I already gathered this stuff from your social media.”

“You want more personal? Something I didn’t put on social media. Alright. There was this time…”

As she talked, the reporter kept his eyes trained on her, but still his hand never stopped moving over the page.

“…After a long day of walking along the side of the freeway outside Sioux Falls, we were picked up by the Sheriff himself. My dad wired the money for bus tickets. We were both grounded for a year,” she rested her head in her palms, peeking through her fingers at him.

He grinned. “I see. So you were a bit of a delinquent. That does contradict the perfect image you’ve got online, doesn’t it? But I bet it gets more interesting from there. Tell me more.”

She opened her mouth, her jaw working for a second. Then she flushed a soft shade of red.

“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe it. You almost made me want to tell you everything. How did you even do that?” she asked, her hands coming down on the red Record button. “You’ve been recording this whole time. What are you even writing?” She craned her neck to see what was on the paper.

This time it was his turn to flush. He turned the notebook around to show her the beginnings of a sketch of herself. All soft curves and smooth transitions. He smiled sheepishly. “This is what I do for a hobby.”

“A good reporter and a great artist? Well. You may just be able to get another date out of me yet, Mr. Tanner.”

“Thank you kindly, Miss Kinney.” He grinned.

Gotta love that reddit search. Thanks for the link, maybe that's why it was reported.

Ah well. Two months is still well outside our timeframe for reposts.

Lol that this prompt was reported as a repost when, as near as I can tell, it's one of the few truly unique prompts posted on this sub since I've been a mod here.

You can use context to figure it out, it's really not difficult or confusing in the slightest.

If you'd like to double down here, please be my guest.

Bigoted comments are not allowed on this subreddit, full stop.

That includes transphobic comments.

Consider this the only warning that you will get.

Oh, I've definitely seen prompts of this nature before. This isn't an original by any means. It just isn't a repost that necessitates a removal under our rules.

The most recent one that's even similar to this one is six months ago, from what I can see. There's definitely not a recent word for word copy that I can find. That said, Reddit's search definitely does suck.

If you can find one posted within the past 14 days, let me know. Our rules allow reposts after that because what we want are new stories and 14 days gives a good chance for new writers to find the prompt and write for it if they missed it the first time around.

You're more than welcome to read through our rules to refresh yourself on them.

Please report this type of thing when you see it.

Tucked into an old blue sleeping bag, Jackson let the lapping of the waves lull him to sleep. The sound echoed off the old table that he had overturned to give himself some privacy from Thomas and Sheila. The stars and moon above bounced off the surface of the water, casting the old skyscraper he called home in cold light that sapped the world of nearly all its color.

Five years after the end, he was finally learning to see the beauty in the world again.

It helped that his two companions were able to smile and laugh. Sheila was excellent at fitting into small spaces and spotting useful supply caches. Her memory of the city from before was invaluable. It made sense. She’d been a tour guide. Thomas could mend their gear and get most mechanical things into working condition. Jackson thought he might’ve been some kind of engineer.

He didn’t know how long he’d been asleep when he heard it. A rustling, crinkling noise from behind the table. He narrowed his eyes. Their last foraging expedition had been less than successful, and they had gone without dinner.

Yet that sounded suspiciously like a wrapper.

He’d lost a lot of weight since the end, and sliding out of the sleeping bag quietly was easy. Peering around the edge of his chair, he saw Thomas in the glow of the dying embers from their fire. He was always the last to go to sleep. He was also the one who had lost the least weight.

Now Jackson knew why.

Bare feet padding silently across worn low pile carpet tiles, Jackson managed to sneak around a desk before the crinkling stopped suddenly.

“Jackson?” Thomas whispered. “You awake?”

Jackson waited, holding his breath. He heard Thomas sigh in what sounded like relief, and the crinkling started again. Jackson saw red. Withholding food from hungry friends would be the last mistake the man would make.

He let out a scream as he vaulted the desk. Caught completely by surprise, Thomas yelped and fell off the beaten office chair he had claimed when they staked out this floor as theirs a month ago. He tried to roll out of the way, but Jackson was already on him, fists flying, his knees driving hard into the man’s ribs.

After a few minutes, Jackson felt Thomas go limp. He was vaguely aware of screaming, crying. Sheila’s hands on him, trying to pull him away. He let himself stop.

The man below him was nearly unrecognizable. But the prize was within reach. His hands shot up and he yelped out wordless triumph.

Reaching for the wrapper, he grabbed it. He recognized the logo, a sweet confection from before. The sugar, grease, and preservatives would have made his mom go nuts about it.

But there was something hanging from it. Jackson frowned, lifting the little bit of paper. In Thomas’s tidy handwriting, there was a small message:

> "To: Jackson. Happy Birthday. From: Your Best Friend, Thomas."

r/TenspeedGV