his hand shook as he keyed in the number on his phone. it was mere seconds before he would be connected to a perfect stranger, a woman who he had no desire for, other than that she was not his wife.
disgust and regret flowed through him even as he waited for the voice on the other end.
Sweat ran down her face, lips salty, breath coming fast and hard. She pounded the concrete beneath her feet, pushing past her own limits. The further she went, the further she left the dreams behind. They couldn’t follow her forever, and so she kept running. To where, she had no clue.
Hands placed primly by her side as she watched the binmen clear the bins away from the road. Smoothing back her hair so she could place the plastic earrings her daughter had found charming in a pound shop, onto small lobes. A watch worn on a thin wrist, the face gleaming from the weak morning sun. Pink lipstick, a glamorous, sultry shade, not the…[Read more]
of course, it was burnt. she was a rubbish cook, who barely had time to boil pasta, but just this once she thought she could make a simple omelette.
of course not; her mind was elsewhere, on her, always on her.
her beautiful eyes, her red hair, that smile that lit up the room.
it was almost worth the smell of burnt eggs just to see that face as…[Read more]
it was simple, really. he wasn’t allowed to be in love because he wasn’t wired that way. it had been like that for his younger carefree sister, and his older, more wiser, brother, too. the clarks were independent creatures, people who made connections, but rarely the romantic type. it was in their dna.