I feel sick like I am about to vomit, I also have a headache. Honestly, it's more from nerves than anything. His eyes search mine, they are neverending, a mystery waiting to be solved. His hand brushes my cheek.
"I have to go. I'm so sorry"
A tear slides down my cheek and I reach out to him as he slips into the crowd of soldiers boarding the train.
There are many smells I like, fresh bread, sweet pastries or the flowers in my garden. The coach driver, his smell was not one of them, it took most of my energy not to puke. He reeked.
When I get home I stumble out of the coach and gasp for air. I am dizzy from the lack of oxygen. I think back to the party, all the other woman chatting, drinking, having little snacks, and all their fake smiles, we all wait for our men to come home. I notice two figures in military clothing at the front door as I approach.
"Mrs Anderson?"
"Yes?"
I know what they are going to say before it leaves their mouth. My heart stops. I hold back my tears as I unlock my front door and step inside. I make it all of three steps before I collapse in the middle of the foyer, I finally let the tears fall, as each drop hits the floor the cracks in my heart spread further and further.
Until it completely shatters.
YOU ARE READING
Little stories
Historia CortaA bunch of short stories I have written, as well as the start of stories I likely won't finish. If you would like me to continue a story feel free to ave a comment. I have moved these stories from a different account
