sometimes i like to pretend I can write.

a story I wrote that I hate a little less than everything else I produce for my many fans (if anyone does read i'd appreciate criticism):

Maggie trailed her finger along the windowsill, making a long, twisting path in the thick dust coating its surface. “How can you say maybe we’re just not compatible? I love him, that should be enough.” Maggie’s mother said, reaching for her coffee.
“You’d think.” Maggie’s aunt replied, back turned away from her sister, her face twisted as if she smelled shit, which, she thought, she did. “Generally, though, they have to love you back for it to work out, Freddie.”
“He does love me! He has to. He has risked so much for our relationship. ” Freddie slammed her full cup down, spilling coffee across the table. Maggie turned toward the conversation, intrigued by the change in her mother’s tone.
“You call what you two do a relationship?” Maggie’s aunt muttered, bending to clean the coffee off the table.
“I’ll prove it! I’ll show you!” Freddie rummaged through her purse, as Maggie’s aunt removed the dust that had found its way into Maggie’s hair. When she had found a scrap of newspaper, Myron Jones’s obituary, with a brief note scribbled on it, Freddie waved it in her sister’s face. Her sister sighed and took the scrap, staring into Myron Jones’s face, wondering if he had ever imagined what the declaration of his passing would be reduced to. She looked up into Freddie’s desperate face. “All that note tells me is that he likes to look at your naked ass. As I would expect, for who risks their wife’s wrath on someone without a ‘full, luscious, hunk of ass.’ He must have a soul full of romance though, to come up with a line like that.”
Maggie, beginning to tire of her mother’s lack of attention, tugged on her mother’s finger. Freddie jumped to her feet, snatching her hand away, startling Maggie into tears. “Go to hell with your moral superiority! My marriage has never satisfied me, my life has never satisfied me. But this man satisfies me. I don’t need you to approve.” She left, snatching up her purse on her way out the door.
Maggie and her aunt listened to gravel fly as Freddie sped off. When it occurred to Maggie her mother had just left, she began to cry in earnest. Her aunt knelt to comfort her, murmuring “We’re better off” into her hair.