A lonely young women's life changes the very
night of Murray Franklin's murder, on live television and it is a change that her heart will never forget. When she spots a man passed out and bloody, in an alley, that same night and even when she sees...
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Arthur closed his eyes as the soothing hot water drenched his skinny body. His head still ached, his stomach still felt sower, his nose and jaw heart, and his heart felt extremely heavy. He had his palms against the shower wall, his head lowered, as the water hit his back and neck. It was very hungover, but...there was something else that was plaguing his mind, but he didn't want Iris to know....
He washed his body and washed all the makeup on his face and stared down at the drain, watching the colors mix. He made sure he got the blood off his face and began to lather his thick luxurious hair with shampoo. He rubbed it in vigorously, trying to just focus on the matter at hand, which was simply washing his hair.
Iris sat with Ophelia on the couch, but little Ophelia was falling asleep. She was trying to resist it, but soon laid on her side and fell asleep. Iris slowly got up, shut the television off, and put a blanket on her. She stood in front of the couch for a moment, making sure she was really asleep. Suddenly she thought of the first night Arthur was in her apartment and sleeping on her couch. She smiled warmly at the sweetness of the memory.
She sighed and felt her heart become heavy and she decided to go into her bedroom. She heard the shower running as she walked by the bathroom, and hoped he was feeling better. She went and sat down on her bed and lit a cigarette.
She laid on the bed, staring at the ceiling; thoughts swirling around in her brain. She heard the bathroom door open and turned her head and saw Arthur wrapped in a towel, his hands rubbing his eyes. He felt better, but was still exhausted. He felt bad for being so cross with Iris, so when he entered her room and looked at her, his eyes were round and innocent looking. They seemed to say, "I'm sorry"
She smiled brightly at him, sat up and padded the bed with her hand and said, "Come ere, handsome. It's okay"
He stood in the door frame, his slender arms crossed, leaning on one side of it. He sniffed, rubbed his nose. He looked away, feeling stupid, but her smile was so kind and welcoming that he knew she wasn't angry, and maybe never really was, but just wanted to help him. Not only did he feel bad for being so cranky, he felt weak, hungover and horribly embarrassed about being so drunk last night.
