In 250-500 words, finish this piece.
He saw her. Right there. From the corner of his eye.
When he looked full on, she was almost visible, like the heat of the
day on the road.
But side-eyed, there!
He . . .
Writing Challenge: Finish This
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Throwing Up Words 
He panicked. Not really wanting to see her because the fantasy was too real. How could he fantasize about her if he really looked at her. It was much more fun to view her in unreality than pretend she was real. An idol in his eyes. Someone who had surpassed his expectations. A goddess really. She was so powerful to him, Funny really? He should be his own hero. He was a winner, achiever, he knew he was just as good as she was, but no. Because she would never look at him directly either, it was almost like a relationship. One of those twisted, respected relationships where you knew you were both on the same playing field, but why ruin it with actual pleasantries. “Hey, how’s it going?” No way! Talking would screw up the mystery of who we both really were. We don’t want to know each other! Don’t you see? Let us just pass each other in the pathways of the office with that known, hidden mutual respect. It’s much more fun, don’t you think? Studly, two day shadow versus experienced blonde powerhouse who doesn’t want anything to do with me but walk on top of my back with her four inch high heels. That’s just the way it should be. The more you ignore me, the more I like it. What’s so dang funny, is she feels the same way. She wouldn’t make eye contact with me if her life depended on it, but that hidden, “I’d really actually like to make eye contact with you, but never will, so dream on,” gets you every time. You both know nothing will ever come of this but the game is so fun! The first one to screw up and make eye contact, loses.
He saw her, right there.
Out from the corner of his eye.
But when he looked full on she was only almost visible, like the heat of the day on the road.
But side eyed there she was.
Each time he turned his head, there was just the feeling of her. On the side. The left side.
Why did he always hear the screaming there too?
“Man I’ve got to get some sleep.”
Before it all starts again.
The boy rose from the computer chair, walked to grandpa’s room, and shut off the T.V.
“What are ya doing?”
“Good night grandpa.” Please don’t wake. Please stay still.
“What time is it?”
“Late, I know grandpa.” No memory. No desire.
“G’night son.”
“Yes.” How can you live and not live? How does a man live a good live and in the end get paid with insanity?
“What is it?”
“What’s what?” Slip out, don’t involve him, lay down, still.
“You OK?”
“Yeah. Stay in bed. I’m fine.” Not like you can help or anything. Run.
Away
away
away.
“It will be OK. Everything will be just fine.”
“Thanks, good night.”
The boy made his way outside and lay down on the hammock.
Why don’t I just sleep, I should sleep.
I should just take ’em and sleep. I shouldn’t be like this.
Don’t should on yourself. Son.
Where are you?
Can I summon you?
I hear you. I see you.
I miss you.
Mom,
Please.
What do I do?
Run
run away
far away.
Run
just run
just get up
now.
He lay there quietly swaying, looking straight up into branches of the old pine. The blue white clouds moved across the visible sky, towards mountains.
Breathe, you’re not going anywhere.
Breathe out. No memory. No desire.
Breathe in. You’ll be fine.
Okay, my computer was down for 24 hours. 24 HOURS! It was terrible. I think I need an intervention. Anyway, here’s my take.
He saw her. Right there. From the corner of his eye.
When he looked full on, she was almost visible, like the heat of the
day on the road.
But side-eyed, there!
He wiped the stinging sweat from his eyes. It had been three years since she left. Since she disappeared. One moment there, the warmth of her legs tangled with his under a single cotton sheet. The next a vision, a memory, an absence pressing down on his every thought.
He rounded the corner. His hand brushed across the store’s brick face. Dry and hot, the brick drank his perspiration.
She led him there. To this place. To this alley that meant nothing. Over and over to this barren strip of gray.
“Just tell me what you want me to see, Lexie.” He dropped hard to his knees. Bits of broken cement piercing through his jeans. “I can’t do this anymore.” His chin touched his chest.
He hated coming. It meant something his heart wouldn’t allow him to believe. She was gone. Not just disappeared. Not just lost. She lived no more.
“Tell me, Lexie, tell me where you are. Help me find you.” The words groaned from deep within. There had never been an answer.
Every day he came. For three years he came at exactly 1:37 in the afternoon. That was the last time he heard her voice. The last time he saw her long auburn hair and pale blue eyes on his caller-id.
He drew himself up. His shoulder rubbed against the alley’s gray cement wall as he willed his feet to move. The two large dumpsters, the gas and electrical lines that jutted out from the buildings, they were part of him. He could walk it blind.
His eyes begged to close. Not again, he couldn’t bare it one more time. There was so little left now. Of him. Of reality. Of hope.
It was hot. Too hot. New York in August hot. His back slunk down against a shaded wall. He sat next to an empty water bottle, halfway down the alley. Just half. He could go no further.
He let his eyes close and his mind touch the memories. He tasted the gloss on her lips. He felt the electricity in her skin. The smell of her hair wafted like sweet perfume.
His every muscle ached for the pressure and warmth of her body. But there was nothing. Nothing to hold. Nothing to kiss. No pale blue eyes to make his heart jump.
“Why did you leave me?” His whisper carried in the emptiness.
“Jeremy.” Her breath tickled his ear.