Prompt #77 - Things Carried

Write a story with a character who carries something. Anything.

The Prompt:

The thing they carry should be something physical. Their wallet. A comb. A photo of a former lover. A safety pin. A spare granola bar. A certain necklace or ring.

Have something happen to the thing—it gets lost, or found, or put down, or stolen, etc. (Or not—everything’s up to you.)

Your story can be funny or sad! - 400 words max

It was Henry’s fondest hope to become cool, and the opportunity for such transformation occurred in the summer after graduating from high school. First, he finally got his braces off. Then he found out new kinds of contact lenses could actually correct severe astigmatism, and instantly his dark blue eyes were the first thing you noticed about him. Then, the day he turned 18 and came into the first half of a modest trust fund, he went right to the plastic surgeon and insisted that he do something about a nose that was just distractingly, shall we say, prominent. (Considering he inherited the nose from his father, it was appropriate that his financial inheritance should pay to fix it.) It was beyond miserable to breathe through his mouth for three days, but when the cotton came out of his nostrils, the relief was a joy almost as intense as seeing his new, smaller proboscis. His nose still had character, but definitely no one would ever describe him by saying, “Brown hair, short, big nose.” And he’d forgotten totally that his adenoid removal would lessen that nasal quality in his voice, not to mention, (assured the doctor) would also greatly reduce the frequency of colds, which were a constant plague. Lastly he splurged on a new wardrobe, including a leather jacket so supple and sexily cut that it felt like a second skin.

But knowing abstractly that he would probably get fewer colds couldn’t eliminate a habit he’d had since fifth grade, when his father had died, and he found himself unable to stop crying at the funeral, and there were unaccountably no Kleenex in sight. He couldn’t wipe his nose on his suit, but the sensation of the snot streaming out of his nose was so uncomfortable that he never forgot it. He just never wanted to feel that sensation again, it somehow felt like death, and he grabbed tissues automatically, always, before he left the house.

He was now “Hank” and his first week at Syracuse was an unhoped for dream. Life was so different when your good looks served as a passport. When his new roommate suggested they go out for beer, he put on his jacket, but as Brian waited in the hall, for the first time in memory, Hank did not grab any tissues. It was the final step in his transformation. Now, he was really cool.

MCO 2025

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