My short story wasn't used for my animation and animatic, but I did use it for my illustration.

Stained
He paced the Regency Hyatt frantic over nothing. He knew everything was make shift and the room for error is killing him. He took out his pack of cigarettes, ignoring the lobby's sign, and pat one out of the carton. Lamare Civics knew it was a bad habit but the calming nicotine that was lacing his lungs was the only thing preventing him from punching the wall. He was high-strung and didn't give a damn about how it affected others... but her.
She, his wife, Denise Civics, was his first and only love. He treasured her ever since he laid eyes on her in the reflection of a spoon in the cafeteria in 7th grade. Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to see the boisterous woman for the past few years due to his studies out of state. Now, according to her text message, he was going to see her in less than five minutes. He killed time exhaling a cloud of smoke and reminding himself the many memories of being together.
At exactly 2 o'clock, a short woman with native american heritage adorned in a hat that would make the wives at the Kentucky Derby green with envy. The salmon pink monstrousity had fifty stars around the base of the hat that she designed herself. She was a hat maker, his little mad hatter as he would joke before getting swapped at. He admired how she took up such an old career in a time of mass production.
"Laaamare! Oh, my darling Lamare! It's been ages!" She jumped up and down while weaving through the glass tables in 5 inch pumps. He chuckled, slightly embarrassed by her display of happiness. He slowly stood up holding her close to him. "Two years, 4 days, 3 hours, and something something since we've seen each other, right?" He sighed a deep baritone sigh. She sighed as well. He took her hand and led her to the elevators, extinguishing his cigarette along the way.
"So, how's life?" She asked timidly before the ding of the elevator bell. How was life? He blinked away the stress and contemplated answering until the elevator buttons distracted him. The soft hum of the elevator spoke for him. "Lamare?" Denise asked worriedly, "Please tell me what's wrong!"
"Denise..." He trailed off staring at the built in LCD screen announcing it was a nice 68˚. He really didn't want to tell her, at least not yet. Things could get better. Couldn't they? Stepping out of the elevator he guided her to his room. He nervously opened the door, hoping that the scene held inside was believable. That he indeed have been living in this prestigious hotel for the past two years instead of arriving three hours before hand.
"Home, sweet home," He chuckled.
"Oh, my! This view is incredible! Isn't it unnerving though? I mean, you're afraid of heights... I thought you would choose one on a lower floor," She muttered under her breath loud enough for him to hear. He froze while setting down his sweater. She figured it out already??? The paranoia switch flicked on and quick, irrational excuses flooded his mind.
"Oh... yeah, only one they had at the time. I just draw the curtains," He replied as he walked into the kitchenette in search of cups for water. He changed his mind when he discovered the complementary bottle of wine. Alcohol was better for such an occasion. As he uncorked the bottle he heard her walk in.
"Lamare, there are no curtains," She crossed her arms channeling his mother's truth seeking powers. "Where have you been living? What have you been even doing? Have you been lying to me? Are you lying to yourself?" Tears started flowing down her cheeks. Soon enough they flowed down his. He walked over to her hoping that her arms would fold around him. When they did, sobs raked through his body. Her soft pats on his back helped his heartbeat calm down enough for him to confess.
"It's not as bad as you think. Well, in some cases it isn't. I managed to get the agriculture degree. That wasn't a lie. I also have a steady job, but that meant I had to move into an apartment for it to all work. But... I realized that this is all just a dream, Denise. I... I don't want to live in my dream any more. As sick as that may sound, I just want routine. I want to live on the farm again," He pleaded into her tearstained hat. He looked past the brim of her hat to see her looking up at him sadly.
"I was planning on convincing you to stay here, to succeed your dream. But, now that I think about it," She slipped a hand into her coat pocket and took out her wallet to reveal two tickets for a one-way trip to Omaha, Nebraska. "I could always have a conversation buddy on the trip home."
For a good few minutes, they shared a smile. A smile that renewed their love of each other. Realizing what he over came, he led her over to the kitchenette counter. "Celebration wine, then?"
She sat at on one of the wicker bar stools and renewed her tears. "Can't, I'm pregnant." The bottle broke on impact, staining the tile and cabinets. He looked at her stunned, knowing she occasionally pulled pranks, he counted to ten under his breath. She just shook holding her stomach in shame.