He sits and he waits for the sunrise and for his reckoning.
In this pretty coastal town where later the city-dwellers will flock like seagulls, this place that has borne him, raised him and schooled him, that has chewed him up (but never quite spat him out), he knows there is no point in running. He wipes scarlet-smeared hands on his jeans and sits unsteadily on the cold stone of his front step. His thoughts drift to his lover, prone and unmoving on their bed; how once their anger faced outward at the world, not inward at each other.
He sits and he waits for the sunrise and for his reckoning. 18/2/2022 03:52:52 pm
Whoa - that one caught me off guard.
Pamela Kennedy
18/2/2022 05:45:25 pm
I, too, was not expecting that ending...well done!
Sue Clayton
19/2/2022 12:54:24 am
I wonder what their anger was at the world, and then each other, that led to such a tragic end.
David Milner
19/2/2022 12:35:57 pm
Like Jim B. I was taken with the powerful image. And I grew up in a seaside town. Good stuff. Comments are closed.
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"Classic"
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