[Grandiagod]

Originally Posted by eff_a_username

She looked down the way she always does, eyes fixated on her felt shoes

Felt shoes, what?

even though she really was obstructed in her own darkness.

I'm trying to figure out if this is a metaphor for some sort of vague, depressed emotional state or if she's fat and projecting a shadow. Or maybe she just hates herself for buying weird felt shoes.

Her head at a despondent tilt,

Despondent tilt? Isn't she already looking downward? Is she tilting her head downward even more depressingly than one wold normally look downward at ones feet?

anxious of what was soon to come.

Hopefully a decent clarification of this depressing shoe scene you just threw us into.

He took a drag off his cigarette, flicked his ember impatiently and repeated the process.

What who huh. He? I'm glad you just switched to a character of a different gender in this story without actually explaining that there's more than one person. Unless this person had a sex change in between despondent shoe gazing and nicotine inhaling.

The silence between the two grew with tension and competed with each other in bitter serenity.

There's two people whew. Though how they manage to mix bitterness and serene together I'm not sure. They're really mutually exclusive emotions/adjectives. At least they're competing in their oxymoronic emotions, adds some much needed action. Otherwise this would be an incredibly awkward scene with two people doing nothing but standing and looking awkwardly at each other (or shoes) in a completely unrealistic manner.

All that they could hear that night was the whistle of the wind and the hum of the industrial machinery overhead; even the winds of the cricket orchestra was drowned out by the man-made mechanisms.

Wait, there's industrial machinery overhead of them? Do they live underneath a factory? Also I would imagine the sound of screeching crickets is quite a bit louder than the whistling of wind, unless the wind is absolutely bellowing, in which case you'd think it would have been mentioned already.

Unless they live underneath a windmill... brilliant

Connor, now growing annoyed began to pace back and forth on the concrete patio; which looked as if it has not seen a broom in years, he kicked the dirt and dust until it dissipated in the air.

Okay so now we have an adult man wildly kicking around dust in front of a motionless, shoe engrossed, depressed woman while not saying a word.

I'm thoroughly engrossed.

He shot disgruntled looks at Laura out of the corner of his eye, not locking a stare for more than a second out of fear of starting conversation. Pride wouldn’t allow him to do such a thing.

Now he's giving her angry stares. While kicking dust. While smoking. While she does nothing.

This man is a class act.

“It was me that put in the last word” he thought angrily. “…Or was it her? Come on memory don‘t fail me now!”. His thoughts were in a jumble and mind, haphazard. He couldn’t think clearly as he would sober.

AND he's drunk. This is pretty GRINDMARK.

One more ****ing beer, that would do it!

One more beer would do what? Make this story go away?

He kicked one of the pillars to the awning in frustration

Maybe that beer would have prevented his random bursts of rage against dust and architectural supports.

and barely glazed the surface of his left pinky toe.

Glazed toe, mmmm delicious. Unless you meant he hurt himself, which would insinuate he's not wearing shoes. Maybe that girl is despondently staring at her shoes wishing that the man going around kicking things would be smart enough to wear some.

Still the fact that he "grazed" his toe makes me think he almost whiffed the kick in the first place. What a goofy guy.

Connor let out a cry even louder than the workings of the electricity refinery behind his back yard

Oh, he lives next to an "electricity refinery". One may only ponder what they do at this place of electric refinement. Perhaps they produce super high grade electricity for picky electronics.

“SHIIIIITTTTTT”, he dropped to the ground holding his left foot. He continued to himself, “Nice move smart ass”.

Poor guy, can't even barefoot kick hard objects right.

Now even more frustrated he looked to her to see if she had acknowledged him in any way, but what he saw was a void gap sitting between the butane BBQ and the screen door window.

Christ, a drunk man screaming in pain and she won't even look up from her shoes. Then again, felt is pretty entertaining. Or perhaps she's mute.

In the same position as to when she first got there in that very same spot.

How long has she been there exactly? Minutes, hours, years? She sounds creepy regardless.

Laura with bangs covering her red puffy eyes and arms wrapped around her perfectly tanned thighs.

At least she's a babe eh?

Finally he stood and broke the ice

I'm thinking hard to come up with something that would break the ice more than drunk injuries but I'm not coming up with anything.

with, “If you aren’t going to say anything you could just leave; We both know you aren‘t mute”

Well goddamn there goes my mute theory.

At last, she sighs and moves her arms as if she was brushing away cobwebs;

That's a pretty awkward way to move your hands from your perfect thighs.

her hand goes for her large leather bag and pulls out a pack of Marlboro lights.

Man asks you a question YOU LIGHT A CIGARETTE BECAUSE DAMN YOU ARE SO DESPONDENT.

Taking her time to light the cigarette in almost a mechanical way, muscles stiff like her solemn facial expression throughout the entire time of being there.

This woman just doesn't like moving normally. I get it, she's got Parkinson's. It's always interesting when you give a character a disability. Interesting, go on.

She cleared her throat a couple of times before she said meekly, “I don’t understand why this is such a problem. If you really did lov-”

Why is she being meek? She just balls out ignored the guy for the majority of this story. That's pretty brazen if you ask me

Connor then abruptly said, “Don’t you even pull that card, it’s harder than it looks okay?!”.

His dick? The stub of bone sticking from his little toe? Deciding between felt and velvet shoes?

Laura unfortunately had a knack for making things a bit melodramatic

You're telling me sheesh.

and so everything that was said in argument translated to him as a afternoon soap drama. There was a pause for a few minutes before he continued on with, “Can we just forget about this? Look Laura, I love you. I know this may be hard to believe at times but I’d do anything just to have you”.

I'll kick the hell out of this dust and refine so much electricity we'll be able to buy you all the Parkinson's medicine you can swallow!

A sympathized countenance struck her face, this wasn’t news to her.

Who is she sympathizing with? The reader? Because all I can see is a drunk guy hurting himself and arguing. Maybe it's more pity.

But whenever she took in nice things about her she processed that as new bits of information. She was a little more at ease now, he no longer heard the “whizzes and whirs” that escorted her movement

... so she's... a robot? I, uh, what? I've given up figuring out this girl. Women are crazy yo~

-- Laura made a smooth transition from a secure position to standing up confidently. Connor was about a foot taller than her, but the way she carried herself she could have been mistaken for a 6 foot body builder.

I do like my women strutting around with an air of robotic huskiness.

She put out her cigarette and said softly, “Connor I love you too, I have loved you for a long time. And I promise I won‘t take it personal anymore, I’ll deal. But you have to promise you won’t complain about it either”.

My foreshadowing senses predict we're getting close to the big reveal. Oh boy.

She lingered a bit longer before finishing, “I mean it’s normal for most guys to have the inability to get it up in bed. It’s even common. We’ll work through this”. As she said this, he smiled and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

I don't

I

please

what