John fumbled for a clean cup in the cupboards

[alpacinou]

Is this correct and natural?

John fumbled for a clean cup in the cupboards. He shook his head, cursing under his breath as all the cups were coated with dust. He wanted to find a way to fill another barren afternoon, another empty night. He stumbled from the kitchen through the empty dining room to the living room. A mirror leaned against the center of the pale green wall [I mean it was not in the corner], surrounded by half-dirty pieces of cloth. He sat in front of the mirror layered with weeks of dust, reaching for a cloth to clean it. He started to rub the mirror half-heartedly, stopping every once in a while to stare at his reflection, holding an unfamiliar vacant stare. A faint clack of heels came from the hallway outside, getting louder and louder. Slowly, the cantors of a woman's body formed in the mirror, looming over him. John slowly pushed himself to his feet, gazing at the image of Nicole amid circles of dust left by the cloth. She reached for something in her purse. John felt metal digging into the skin of his neck. The last image he saw was her silver hair straggling down her shoulder. She pulled the trigger, splattering the mirror with his crimson blood. He dropped, sprawled out on the floor, blood seeping from his mouth. He didn't even whimper or twitch. Typical John.

 

[Charlie Bernstein]

Is this correct and natural?

John fumbled for a clean cup in the cupboard[STRIKE]s[/STRIKE]. He shook his head, cursing under his breath, as all the cups were coated with dust. He wanted to find a way to fill another barren afternoon, another empty night. He stumbled from the kitchen through the empty dining room to the living room. A mirror leaned against the center of the pale green wall [I mean it was not in the corner], surrounded by half-dirty pieces of cloth. He sat in front of the mirror layered with weeks of dust, reaching for a cloth to clean it. He started to rub the mirror half-heartedly, stopping every once in a while to stare at his reflection, holding an unfamiliar vacant stare. A faint clack of heels came from the hallway outside, getting louder and louder. Slowly, the contours of a woman's body formed in the mirror, looming over him. John slowly pushed himself to his feet, gazing at the image of Nicole amid circles of dust left by the cloth. She reached for something in her purse. John felt metal digging into the skin of his neck. The last image he saw was her silver hair straggling down her shoulder. She pulled the trigger, splattering the mirror with his crimson blood. He dropped, sprawled out on the floor, blood seeping from his mouth. He didn't even whimper or twitch. Typical John.

If she's in an outside hallway, how can he see her in the mirror? I think you missed a step.

 

[alpacinou]

If she's in an outside hallway, how can he see her in the mirror? I think you missed a step.

I mentioned the clacks getting louder and louder. Isn't that enough?

 

[Charlie Bernstein]

I mentioned the clacks getting louder and louder. Isn't that enough?

It wasn't for me. She should come into the apartment first, then kill him. Was the door open? Closed? Locked? Does she still have a key?

You have a vivid imagination, which is great. Keep in mind that it's not enough for you see her in the apartment. We have to see her there, too. Right now, we see her in the hall, because that's where you have her.

It can be hard to decide whether you're giving the reader too much or too little information. Practice!

 

[alpacinou]

Thank you very much Charlie. Is this okay?

John fumbled for a clean cup in the cupboards. He shook his head, cursing under his breath, as all the cups were coated with dust. He wanted to find a way to fill another barren afternoon, another empty night. He stumbled from the kitchen through the empty dining room to the living room. A mirror leaned against the center of the pale green wall [I mean it was not in the corner], surrounded by half-dirty pieces of cloth. He sat in front of the mirror layered with weeks of dust, reaching for a cloth to clean it. He started to rub the mirror half-heartedly, stopping every once in a while to stare at his reflection, holding an unfamiliar vacant stare. A faint clack of heels came from the hallway outside, getting louder and louder. The apartment door creaked open. Slowly, the contours of a woman's body formed in the mirror, looming over him. John slowly pushed himself to his feet, gazing at the image of Nicole amid circles of dust left by the cloth. She reached for something in her purse. John felt metal digging into the skin of his neck. The last image he saw was her silver hair straggling down her shoulder. She pulled the trigger, splattering the mirror with his crimson blood. He dropped, sprawled out on the floor, blood seeping from his mouth. He didn't even whimper or twitch. Typical John.

 

[Charlie Bernstein]

Exactly. Now that she's in, he's a goner!