Tense Tea

Hi everyone!

Today’s post will be interesting. It’s about editing. Basically we got a really bad text, we are supposed to make good. We can add stuff if we’d like, but we can’t delete any. So here goes!


Carl and Daisy were drinking tea. Carl was angry with Daisy. Daisy was sad that Carl was angry. When he was angry, they fought a lot, and she felt upset all the time. Now he said to her that she was ugly. That made her even sadder, because she didn’t even think it was true. She didn’t like Carl anymore. Carl also did not like her.”


The teacup was shaking in her hands, despite her biggest effort to appear indifferent. Daisy knew Carl was furious with her, and she struggled to hold back her tears as he glared at her. He’d acquired an unbeaten ability to seem as if she was the most disgusting thing he’d ever seen, and she refused to let him see her cry. But her eyes were burning and despite practically gulping down the tea, her throat felt dry and raw. Sometimes she felt like Carl was always angry with her.

They fought a lot, whenever Carl was angry – which was most of the time, these days. They were always fighting and she could never remember about what. Pointless stuff, really. The kind of stuff you’d never care about if you weren’t already angry, and Daisy were on the verge of giving up.

It seemed as if she was always fighting, but she’d lost sight of what she was fighting for. Now she just wanted peace.

Carl caught her eyes, and she felt hope blossom in her chest. He’d apologize as he sometimes did, and they could go back to the way things used to be.

“God, you’re ugly,” he said.


That was a new low, even for him. He used to tell her she was beautiful. Whispered it in the night with adoration written across his face. She knew he thought her beautiful, and somehow that made his word that much more painful.

He looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to rise to the challenge and fight – as usually – but Daisy was tired of fighting. She had fought for the man she loved, but he didn’t exist anymore, and in his place was a stranger she didn’t even like.

And she knew this stranger didn’t love her either; didn’t even like her most of the time.

She put the teacup down and rose with as much dignity as she could muster.

“Goodbye,” she said.

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