After breakfast

“After breakfast,” he whispered. “I’ll do it after breakfast.” And there I left him, standing by the window, procrastinating over what was to come. I paused by the open door, turning to offer a final piece of unwanted advice. “The longer you leave it,” I began. “I know,” he interrupted. “I’ll do it after breakfast.”

I stood for a moment, staring at the back of his head, willing him to turn and face me.
He never did.

I watched, trapped by my own silence, as his chest rose before he exhaled and his shoulders slumped.

“Goodbye,” I thought I said.


Happy New Year, everyone. Apologies for being absent for a few weeks (did you miss me?) but family commitments, festive laziness, work and many other excuses have caused me to not be here and worse than that, they’ve restricted the time I would normally spend commenting on your lovely pieces. I intend to put that right this month, and hope to consume as many of your Friday Fictions as possible.

Something a bit different from me this week. Do let me know if you like my departure from the usual silliness I spout!

Don’t know what Friday Fictioneers is? Get yourself over to Lady Rochelle’s blog to find out more!

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