Shadow season

She sat in the middle of the living room. It was early, still dark, and the neighborhood was hushed. There was an empty knocking in her stomach, a rattle like a loose window in a storm. She put her hand on it, but the slight weight and warmth of it made her feel like retching.

Daniel was out of town, gone for ten days. Work, he said. Conference backed up against conference, he said. It was possible. It could be true, she thought. It might be.

The dog’s snoring, usually a comfort, instead brought a feeling of déjà vu. She had a half-memory, a conversation on the whispered edge of recollection. It would not come to her, but left her there aching in the half-light.

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4 thoughts on “Shadow season

  1. You might be tired of hearing this, but — I sure love your last lines. Some places publish lists of ‘first lines’ of writing. I would love to read a list of your LAST lines. I stand in awe. Look at this one: “…a half-memory, a conversation on the whispered edge of recollection. It would not come to her, but left her there aching in the half-light.”
    Aching in the half-light — simply gorgeous.

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