Monday, February 13, 2012

It happened in the middle of the night.

“Would you like to call the doctor?”
“It’s on the desk.”
“I have nothing to hide.”
“I said, no.” She pauses and reconsiders, but she knows what will happen.  “I know how he died,” she says.
The water crashes against the shoreline outside of the door, making uninviting sounds as the wind knocks against the windows.  He crosses the room and invites her into his arms, “We just don’t know how he lived."
Her face is ashen.

{Written by: Andrea Currie}

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