Mi Amor

In front of other people, she always called me mi amor. It made people think we had the perfect relationship, that our love was enduring and not filled with rancor.

In private, life was different. She . . .

Please leave a comment with your first 50 words on the topic “mi amor.”


Author: Virginia DeBolt

Writer and teacher who writes blogs about web education, writing practice, and pop culture.

2 thoughts on “Mi Amor”

  1. “What will you call this masterpiece, Miguel?” The chef gazed upon the sixteen inch work of art, admiring the flawless distribution of toppings and the precise length of time the cheese was left to cook. He couldn’t help but smile.

    “Mi amor,” he responded as his saliva began to drip.

  2. She was teasingly shy and made me fill in her thoughts as if to massage my ego. She was not the tender lamb she wanted to be. She was clearly a tortured artist inside-she didn’t just live life she reacted to it. Her artist was bursting at the seams. The monotony of life was was a challenge for her. Daily living was not enough to contain her many offerings. Taking the garbage out was not a big enough deal, everything she did had to be intense. Perhaps that is why when she pulled the trash to the curb each Wednesday evening at dusk she wore a filmy, sheer excuse for a robe that the neighbors looked forward to seeing.

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