Creation

Heights

This chapter is an entry for the Weekend Challenge : Single Dialogue Stories in Festival Bonanza held by WattFest.

When she snatched a handful of my important documents and exited, my heart sank.

I know she deserves to be upset to me—her too hardworking husband—but should she express it that far?

Her heels clanged against metal earlier, so I suppose she's storming up the staircase, which led to rooftop.

No... Not the rooftop!

When does she learn how to exploit my weakness?

Panicked, I bolted upstairs, with steps faster than I've done in years. My palm traced the cold, rusty banisters, trying to steady my pace. I gaped slightly so I can breathe better.

Staircases and rooftop are my weaknesses. I told her one time, wasn't expecting she'll use it against me one day. Alas, the honest confession backfired.

I swerved past the stair's bend, and continued running. My heartbeat echoed like a drum in this silent atmosphere.

Yes, it's supposed to be a summer holiday. When I should've spent quality time with her by traveling, like I promised her before our wed.

When I should've forgotten about work.

Like someone said—regret comes after the undesired happened.

I glanced upwards, and sighed when I spotted the only door, which is left opened. Did Imogen do it purposely?

My lungs ached, equivalent with my muscles. It's been awhile since I worked out. Hard to find the time.

When my feet reached the top floor with a loud thump, I wasted no time in tracking her. Wiping my wet forehead with my crumpled shirt, I staggered to the door and slammed the door wider. Breeze rushed to my skin, seeping through my shirt.

I desperately searched around for the tall, slim woman, who could be at her worst behavior whenever she's upset.

I can't lose either her or my documents.

Finally I spotted her, eyeing the alleyway below. Nausea swirled in my stomach when my brain situated myself as her. Heck, where'd she get all those courage?

I slowly trod towards her, maintaining a stern face.

I called for her name. She turned around, giving me a lopsided smile.

She's satisfied of what she's done.

Anger crawled up my head, urging to scold her harshly.

To my horror, she stretched an arm—the one which's holding a stack of my hard work. The reasons of my ignorance.

It's as if my tongue's tied, unable to speak any words.

"Don't you dare." I said cautiously. Imogen could be so unpredictable at times like this.

"You shouldn't have done that." She replied, with an arm still hovering threateningly above the rooftop's edge. Below, mossy pavements and snoring thugs have waited.

I exhaled in distress. What can I do to convince her to back up and fix our unhealthy relationship?

I closed my eyes and contemplated. I have to save my works... And herself.

When I opened both my eyes and mouth, she's already gone—replaced with nothingness. Hastily, I approached the edge and dared a peek below, dreading to find her or my papers down there.

I don't find them.