No, not the kind you wear...I've recently gotten into writing short fiction, maybe a page long, and I'd like some feedback. Constructive criticism would be especially awesome, not just compliments, because I'm trying to refine this stuff. I plan to self publish it pretty soon. So yeah, I'll post a new short every few days I guess. There's no fantasy in here, just, y'know, people. And be warned, there's a bit of cussing and some stories could be offensive, depending on who you are, but I'll post a warning on those. Here's the first 2...

David

At the wedding, David tried to hold his breath until she'd completed her walk down the aisle. It was less painful than biting back the words that were filling his mouth. Halfway through the march, his control broke and he expelled the air in his lungs in a harsh rasp. But quietly. It wouldn't do to interupt the ceremony.
Her fiancee was standing at the bower, a ghastly affair laden with white roses and whimsical architectural flourishes. The roses, the pale virginal gown...they were jokes. He remembered the days and nights in their dingy basement room, the cheap diet of ramen noodles, coffee, and sex, sex, sex on the dirty matress. He'd never before seen her so clean.
She passed him, looking forward, didn't see him. No father to guide her up the aisle, no expression in her eyes. He recognized that blankness. She'd gone inside herself, to that stronghold in her heart, and her new husband might never find her again. David grinned to himself bitterly, still fascinated by her long legs, perfect ass, barely visible under that ridiculous dress, and he wished that the avidity of his gaze would burn it off so that the guests could see her flesh.
"Friends, loved ones, we are gathered here today to bear witness to this union"
David drew in a breath and held it.

Danielle

She's got to go up to him sometime, get that initial meeting started, get the ball rolling. Any excuses, any clever words? She prays for his shoes to come untied, for the straps on his backpack to break and spill his belongings on the floor. No. He's just as composed as always. She takes a deep breath, makes her move, plunges in, gets to work.
"Hi. I'm Danielle. Rachael's little sister." Voice shaking, arms wrapped tight around her books. Bright blue eyes catch hers. Warm, then distant. His lips move.
"So? Look, I'm busy, what do you want?"
Heart sinks, shoulders slouch, trying to curl into a ball, head goes down, it's all over, all bets are off. What does she want?
Everything. You. She thinks.
"Nothing. Never mind." She mutters.
Years later, she sees his picture in the paper. Only a ghost of a feeling remains.