Monday, 17 June 2013

Rising

Wrapped up in a purple blanket she was like a Christmas cracker.

She stirred awake, heavy under the weight of early hours, words from their earlier conversation still lumbering through her head.

Her eyes were not of this world.

"Did you finish the documentary?" she said.

"Not quite," he replied and sent her to bed.

She retired cautiously, carefully, like the walking dead moving towards the mattress and flopped down.  She pulled the blanket over her head as if it would protect her from everything.

He finished the documentary then went to the kitchen. He stumbled carrying a bowl of peanuts, and the peanuts fell into a different bowl, in which his lady was keeping dried petals.

He stared at his new creation. The petals and peanuts did not look as if they belonged together; nor did they look as if they didn't.



End


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