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Add to basket(A short story of 2756 words)
Add to basket(A short story of 2756 words)
India
Romance
by Gill Hollands
Betrayal rocks Lynn's marriage, but the other woman is not quite what she expected...
The distant receiver clicked down. The vacant buzz flooded my shocked brain. What should I do? I stood at the window, heard his shout goodbye. I couldn’t respond. After a puzzled moment, the door slammed. I watched red tail lights disappear down the drive; a couple of demonic eyes.
I could feel my years of trust cracking like the sagging garden wall. I stared out at the leaning willow with its undermining roots. That was me, knocked sideways. No longer could I believe his tales. Every time he took a call, I would be straining to listen. Every time he went out, I would wonder who with. I dropped the second handset as if it were a snake, cutting off the hiss. He was my best friend, my other half. We couldn’t go on as normal. Not now. I would have to have it out with him...
I watched a white feather fluttering in the breeze outside. That’s how I felt, suspended, helpless. I was waiting, shaking, with his customary G&T when he returned. My stiff smile had been primed with two glasses of sherry. He entered, sheepish, offering guilty flowers, a peck. Small talk was out of the question; I’d stewed too long. Sweating, I went straight for the carotid.
‘I heard your call last night, Jeff.’ The perfume from his neglected flowers caught my throat. I hated this. I’d never thought it would happen to me. Fool…
The distant receiver clicked down. The vacant buzz flooded my shocked brain. What should I do? I stood at the window, heard his shout goodbye. I couldn’t respond. After a puzzled moment, the door slammed. I watched red tail lights disappear down the drive; a couple of demonic eyes.
I could feel my years of trust cracking like the sagging garden wall. I stared out at the leaning willow with its undermining roots. That was me, knocked sideways. No longer could I believe his tales. Every time he took a call, I would be straining to listen. Every time he went out, I would wonder who with. I dropped the second handset as if it were a snake, cutting off the hiss. He was my best friend, my other half. We couldn’t go on as normal. Not now. I would have to have it out with him...
I watched a white feather fluttering in the breeze outside. That’s how I felt, suspended, helpless. I was waiting, shaking, with his customary G&T when he returned. My stiff smile had been primed with two glasses of sherry. He entered, sheepish, offering guilty flowers, a peck. Small talk was out of the question; I’d stewed too long. Sweating, I went straight for the carotid.
‘I heard your call last night, Jeff.’ The perfume from his neglected flowers caught my throat. I hated this. I’d never thought it would happen to me. Fool…