Minor Crisis

Chapter One

Late autumn.
The sky is crying, weeping; cold, heavy tears crash to the ground, forming small pools coloured silver under bright moonlight.

A man is standing, dark glasses in hand, face turned towards the sky. Raindrops tug at his fringe and run in streams to his shoulders. They roll over bare skin, diluting the dark stain on his forearm, before finding refuge in the soil beneath his feet.
The night was calm, serene despite the crash of rain. This was the way Brett liked it best.

He had run here, as he did every night, to catch this one moment. However, he needed to return home soon: it was never long before Kennis noticed his absence and gave him hell for it. Things had been bad lately, the stress of pregnancy causing her to lash out even more than usual.
His mind strayed to the child they would soon be raising together. Well, the child he would be raising under his wife's instruction and critique. He feared what she would become during that time, more capable of movement; force. Gaining strength every day.

He fimbled the long, slim cut running six or seven centimetres along his arm with shaking fingers. Tears pricked at his eyes, threatening to spill.
'It's not that deep, it'll be fine,' he steeled himself, replacing his glasses on his face, and reluctantly bid the moon goodnight.

He turned and walked a brisk walk back to his house. If not for his wife then for his baby.