Day Thirteen: Five Days Late

Here's today's first installment of 10,000 words in one day. The next installment will be coming along shortly.

Daily Word Goal: 2000

Wednesday's Word Count: 2004

Surplus/Deficit: You tell me.

J.W.B.: 1497

"His first, dramatic instinct had been to wear a shirt he disliked or did not wear often, something he could throw away immediately upon return from the clinic that day. He would heave it in the trash, tear it off as soon as she was out of his sight, pour lighter fluid on it, toss a match, and watch the thick but tiny, putrid flames climb into the sky. Initially, he thought he needed something he could be done with for good.
Nonetheless. He knew that he could not burn today away. He would not be able to throw it in the garbage or rip the coming memories from his skin or his brains once they were there. He would have them for as long as he lived, perhaps longer than that if his southern Baptist teachings were correct, and it was not something that he wanted to forget, not when he was as honest with himself as his deadened soul could be. He wanted to remember this day for the rest of his life, to make sure nothing like this ever happened again, so the image of her pain would always outweigh his. He would not throw away this shirt. It was his favorite shirt."