Help me end a piece of fast fiction.

I'm writing a piece of fast fiction for Worcester Writers' Circle on the theme of a “domestic dilemma”. My inspiration has come from a 140 character story posted on Twitter by @veryshortstory. I have used it as the first sentence. As you can see from the title, I have already come up with a possible ending. But I wondered if you might have some ideas which you could leave as a comment.

The Dinner Party

Brian held her pretty hand, intertwining his fingers with hers. Enjoying the moment, then putting it with the rest, in the freezer.

He gently closed the lid and heard the seal sigh when he turned the key to lock it. Even though the garage was attached to the house he didn't want to take a chance with nosy kids or a sneak thief. He went though the connecting door to the kitchen and sat down at the table to get his breath back.

It wasn't as though she was heavy, he just didn't realise how awkward a dead body could be. But it was done. He looked at the kettle for a moment, then got up and took a bottle of wine from the cupboard in the corner. He frowned when he stared at the label and selected another instead. On the way to the living room he grabbed the notepad and pencil that Emily always kept by the phone in the hall.

He carefully placed the bottle and the notepad on the coffee table and went to the sideboard to get the corkscrew and a red wine glass. Before he sat down on the sofa he withdrew the cork and sniffed it out of habit. He then poured a large glass and admired it's deep colour, like damson jam. Now he sat down to think.

He had two simple problems, really just many other domestic dilemmas. The first was what to do with all the food that he'd had to remove so Emily would fit. And the second problem was how to dispose of the freezer. He couldn't very well ring up the council, nor could he take it down to the tip in his estate car. He took another slug of his wine and wrote a few things on the pad. Only one looked like it might work, but it would take a lot of courage. He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes. He'd just have to hope that the money came through soon.

Started Writing Fiction After a Five Week Break

I had a coffee in Birmingham yesterday and watched a young couple chatting a couple of tables away. I was fascinated by the fact that he only ever looked at her when she talked. So I wrote these 200 words this morning as writing practice.

Video Chat

Ami stared at the laptop with Harry’ s voice in her earphones. ‘Why didn’ t he ever look at her when he talked?’ At first she’ d thought he had another computer screen to one side. But sometimes he looked to the other way, so it couldn’ t be that. Maybe he just didn’ t like to chat face to face.

Her finger flicked over the touchpad and his face zoomed out to fill the screen. He looked sexy with a three-day stubble and short dark hair gelled all spiky. She could see his hairy chest in V neck of his red polo shirt and clearly saw the bluebird tattooed on the right side of his neck. Or was it his left? She was never sure with video chat. He was going on about the latest computer game and she was mesmerised by the sight of his lip stud flashing in the light. It was in the corner of his mouth and every now and then she got a glimpse of his tongue stud. They always turned her on.

He leaned back and scratched his chin. ‘The stubble must be itchy,’ she thought. Suddenly he stopped mid-sentence and froze. ‘Damn,’ she said. ‘Blood thing’ s locked again.’