Isaac was, in fact, going to be late for his family dinner as he was, at the same moment, on the other side of the city quietly slipping out of the bedroom of Mrs Williamson.
His muscles all tensed and he opened his mouth to scream, but the rushing air caught the sound in his throat and he stifled.
From the moment he’d met her he was convinced she was the one for him and he loved every part of her.
Marcus wrote the words hoping that getting them out of his head and onto paper would somehow make the nightmare go away, but like the bite of hard liquor or the smell of rotten meat, that kind of isolation lingered.
The window wound back up and the car pulled off slowly, careful not to spray water as it went. Looking skyward again Maalik said.
“Fine, I’ll help him, but not because you made me.”
Compared to things like climate change, corrupt world leaders and catastrophic natural disasters, his complaints were a drop of piss in the ocean. But since it was his part of the ocean that was slowly becoming urine, they really mattered to him.
Concert by D.I. Jolly The war started at 2:34 pm while George was at work. He wasn’t a simple man, but he enjoyed the simple life. He took pleasure in the small things, sunsets, hot coffee on a cold day, the high notes his wife Susanna could reach, when she’d had a couple of glasses…
The words scrawled across the walls read,
‘Only two ways to enter.’
A moment of fear that caused a wealth of pain.
“Buckle in son, I have a lot to say, none of its nice and some of it probably doesn’t make sense.”