Creative Exercise #2

Okay lovelies. Here is my second creative exercise.

The Reluctant I- "Write a first-person story in which you use the first person pronoun (I or me or my) only two times, but keep the I somehow important to the narrative you're constructing. The point is to imagine a narrator who is less interested in himself than in what he is observing"-600 words limit


The wind was biting yet not cold. Dusk had begun to settle as everyone hurried to reach his or her destination. For me, these city streets were the final destination. Day in and day out the only thing that changed was the people who passed by. Except something felt different about that night. The city lights were still ablaze without many more onlookers left outside to take in their warmth. That’s when he passed by. He was tall, at 6’2 and roughly 210 pounds. He looked lean and as if he was a regular at Powerhouse Gym. He wasn’t pretty enough for L.A Fitness, and probably thought of himself as more than the average Joe type that frequents Crunch Fitness. It was when he thought that no one was watching that he made his move. A young woman in her early twenties was crossing the street and headed in his direction. Just as her Jimmy Choo hit the curb she tousled her long brown curls over her shoulder and took one last glance at wherever it was she had just came from. The look on her face was intense. It was if she wished to remember this place forever. The light turned red as she began heading down 42nd and the cars whirred past her. Without so much as seeming to give the idea a second thought, she dashed into the dark alley with the cluck cluck sound of her Jimmy Choos trailing behind her. Mr. Gym Rat quickly entered the alley behind her. Having made sleeping arrangements under a pile of old boxes at the entrance of this dark alley, I was able to see and hear the events taking place without being noticed.
“Do you have it?” she asked.
“Where’s the money bitch?”
“No need to get hostile Mitch.”
“Sorry, lets just get this over with Melinda.”
“Ten grand as promised. Now where’s the chip?”
It was surprising that they knew each other. This Mitch and Melinda seemed to be from two totally different worlds. She from her proper world of Tiffany jewelry and Jimmy Choos, and Mitch from the low end of musty gyms and unfashionable athletic wear. But it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. Hear they were exchanging ten grand for a computer chip.
“You really wanted your husband dead over a microchip huh?”
“You don’t know what kind of information is on there Mitch. It would ruin the both of us” she replied.
Murder! No one said anything about murder. Melinda must have heard the shriek coming from behind the boxes because she immediately became tense as she pulled a small black revolver out of her handbag.
“You expecting someone?” she asked Mitch.
“Maybe it’s one of your people. You tryna get out of paying?”
“Of course not Mitch, but something’s out here” she replied.
But Mitch was one step ahead of Melinda. He punched her in the head and reached for her gun as she had turned around to scan the area for what she was sure was a hidden intruder. Reaching for the small black bag that contained his fortune, Mitch started exiting the alley.
“What about the chip?” Melinda protested.
Mitch turned around and tossed the chip towards the ground where Melinda lay with a hand to her bruised head.
“Nice doing business with ya,” Mitch said.
Melinda wrapped her fingers tightly around the chip and climbed to her feet. She took one last brief look at the alley before hurrying into the night.