Premise: A man contemplates proposing to his girlfriend on their anniversary

Plot: - Joseph smokes a cigarette outside a restaurant

- He thinks about why he loves his girlfriend

- He thinks about the uncertainty he feels

- A woman asks him for a cigarette, and he looks at her and realizes why he loves his girlfriend

- He walks to the restaurant and proposes

Here is the short story I wrote after utilizing what I learned in this class:

Though night had fallen, the summer heat still radiated from the city streets. It was as if a tremendous, heavenly furnace was blazing in the sky, its flames licking at the pavement. The Yarra River, a great distance wide, flowed with a gentle current. Its brown, polluted waters bore a resemblance to manure that ran straight through the heart of Melbourne. The Evan Walker Bridge arched over the water. Its sturdy pillars resembled a giant's fingers grasping the riverbanks. Its curves evoked a root anchoring the city's pulse to the river's tranquility. Joseph faced the river, although his gaze wandered elsewhere. He was a twenty-something, well-dressed, although the outfit appeared to fit him awkwardly, much like a shirt fits a dog. More at home in pastel shirts and long, obnoxious pants, the crisp, formal attire he wore felt like someone else's skin, a disguise that didn't quite fit. It was as if he had climbed into the life of another man, adopting a persona that wasn't his own, a mere facade.

A cigarette dangled from his mouth, its lit tip smouldering with the intensity of an incense stick as the ash lengthened. He wasn't inhaling; the habit had become automatic, a thoughtless motion. His gaze was distant, his mind consumed by the memories of the beautiful woman he'd shared five years of his life with. She was the one waiting for him at the seafood restaurant on the other side of the bridge, a place she adored for its fresh catch and waterfront views. Laughter and music from nearby bars and restaurants filled the air. Trash drifted downstream. Neither registered. His thoughts were with her. His heart heavy with the weight of their relationship. The ups and downs they'd faced, and the uncertainty that now loomed before him like the dark waters of the river.

Joseph's hand instinctively delved into the depths of his pocket, his fingers brushing against the soft, velvet texture of a small box. As he pulled it out, his gaze fell upon it, and his mind began to wander to the possibilities of his future. Marriage, a concept that had once seemed so distant, now loomed before him like the waters off the edge of a cliff. He questioned his ability to take the plunge. To commit to the rituals that came with it: the wedding, the honeymoon, and the inevitable drama that would unfold. Self-doubt had always plagued Joseph, making him hesitant to take bold steps in life. The trip to Italy he'd longed to take. The university course he'd wanted to enrol in. The thrilling roller coaster ride he'd always been too afraid to attempt. All these decisions paled in comparison to the one now before him. This wasn't a calculated risk or a gradual step towards his future; it was a seismic leap, a boundless transition from one life to another. It was akin to abandoning the safety of solid ground and taking a daring jump into the unknown, with no assurance of a soft landing.

He thought of Michelle, remembering the last time they'd clashed. The fight had started over something trivial, like what to cook for dinner. What stuck in his mind was the intensity of their emotions. As they'd stood in their small kitchen, their voices rising, he'd felt his love for her intensify, not wane. It was as if the disagreements had polished their bond, making it stronger. This wasn't a new development; he'd felt this way since they'd first locked eyes. But, as he thought back, he couldn't shake the feeling. With each bitter exchange, Michelle's love for him might be unraveling, like a thread pulled from a worn sweater.

The uncertainty gnawed at his mind like a relentless mouse, refusing to let go. What if, as he mustered the courage to ask, she dropped a bombshell? What if she had been thinking of ending their relationship all along? The very thought sent his heart racing and his palms sweating. He couldn't shake the image of himself, down on one knee, ring in hand, only to be met with a cold, hard rejection.

He lifted the box's lid with a soft touch. To his surprise, the ring burst out, like a delicate flower sprouting from the earth after a spring rain. To others, it was a simple ring. To Joseph, it was a one-way ticket to an unknown future, a passport to a new life. If he discarded the ring without thought at that moment, he would remain stuck in his static life, forever trapped in his current state of being. Yet, if he took the ticket and boarded the train, he would be on a journey to an unpredictable future. It would be full of unknown twists and turns. The only constant would be the thrill of uncertainty and Michelle. The problem was: Joseph was the kind of man to always keep one foot on the ground. He was the kind of man who held on when others let go. Yes, he was stubborn, but he was not necessarily proud of it.

His cigarette had burned down to the filter, the flame devouring the last remnants of tobacco. The acrid smell of stale smoke wafted up, mingling with the pungent aroma of rotting rubbish in the river. He carelessly flicked the butt into the river of trash. It joined the tide of fast food wrappers, crumpled papers, and broken dreams. The sound of the butt hitting the water was imperceptible. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he lit a new one, the flame dancing on the tip of the cigarette like a tiny demon. As he was about to take a long, satisfying drag, a slender hand touched his shoulder. He turned to face a woman he had never seen. But he knew her type all too well - a fleeting beauty, a whispered promise, a momentary escape from the desperation that clung to him like a shroud. She moved in close, her eyes locked on his, and for a moment, the world narrowed to the two of them, suspended in a fragile bubble of possibility.

"Can I bum a cigarette?" she asked, her words betraying her elegant appearance.

The woman's clothes fit her about as well as his suited him. They were like two costumed contestants at Comic Con dressed in someone else's skin. This girl looked like the type who should have had tattoos over her body, raven hair, and an outfit fit for a dominatrix. Yet, she stood before Joseph in a red dress, a blonde wig, and cheery makeup that couldn't hide her glum exterior. Joseph offered her a cigarette, his eyes locking onto hers for a brief moment as he lit it, the flame casting a brief, intimate glow between them.

"Got yourself a girl?" she asked, motioning towards the ring. "Or are you thinking of proposing to me, stranger?"

Joseph snorted. "I got a woman. She's waiting down there at that restaurant," he looked at the ring. "I'm deciding if now's the time to give it to her."

She chuckled at that. "Aww, you men. You're a funny bunch of idiots. Why don't you ask? What harm is there in that? Are you scared she'll say no? So what? There's a hundred other women who would likely say yes. So, do yourself a favour, speed it up and ask."

She gripped his arm, the one with the cigarette, and pried it out of his finger. "Hope you don't mind. You don't seem to be using it."

She stuck his cigarette in her mouth and threw her own into the river. He handed her the carton without thinking and said, "Have the rest. I don't feel like smoking any more."

She uttered a fleeting "Thanks" as she snatched the cigarettes from his outstretched hand, her gaze lingering on his for a fraction of a second. The phrase "Your loss" followed. It had a subtle ambiguity. It left him wondering if she meant the nicotine sticks or herself.

He smiled as he looked through her facade of a gorgeous blonde bombshell and at the darker, truer person on the inside. As he held her gaze, he turned his attention to the restaurant and the row of windows along its front, where his own reflection stared back. For a moment, he forgot about the masquerade and saw himself without the mask. After tonight it wouldn't be so much of a front and more of a vision of the future: his wedding. Their wedding. He thought for the first time that he looked good. He imagined himself dressed like this at the end of the aisle. The only woman he could see stepping down the aisle was the only one he cared to see.

Without another word to the stranger, and without another moment of hesitation, he crossed the rest of the bridge and walked into the restaurant.