Calculated Risk
I.
The night is still and unseasonably warm, little beads of sweat have formed above my upper lip and across my forehead. Crouched just beyond the illumination of the window, I see her sitting in the chair lazily watching a TV program, left hand absently twirling a tendril of hair between her fingers. She needs me, I can feel her every fiber calling out to me, yearning for me. The only thing between her and I is a thin pane of glass, I could so easily break that barrier, but I won't, not today.
A loud crash echoes from behind, setting me on edge. Silently cursing, catching a glimpse of her through the corner of my eye, I collapse down to my hands and knees in anticipation of her glance.
She turns and looks in my direction, but I'm too quick, she doesn't see me. I've crouched beneath the window, contemplating. I should leave, I can come back tomorrow, but I have to see her one last time. I can't leave without saying goodbye.
Circling to the side window, I peek in one last time. So beautiful, her head sleepily resting in the palm of her upturned hand, eyes half shut. She should go to bed, she doesn't get enough sleep, she needs me to help her, she needs someone to look out for her.
God knows that useless excuse of a husband doesn't. How does someone like that end up with someone like her? She deserves someone so much better, someone who will take care of her, someone who will make sure she eats properly, and gets enough sleep, someone who will love her the way she deserves to be loved.
II.
Sitting in the recliner, eyes heavy with sleep, the warmth of the house has lulled her into an almost dreamlike state. Her husband was due home hours ago, she is not worried though. He is always late, she has grown accustomed to it over the years. Trying her best to stay awake, she tries without much success to follow the story line of a sitcom.
Quickly glancing across the street, she is startled suddenly by the neighbors garage door slamming shut. "One of these days someone is going to get hurt by that Bill...." she says to herself. For years that door has had a mind of its own, slamming shut at the least expected moment.
Yawning, she pulls herself to stand, stretching, the need for sleep has consumed her.
III.
To Be Continued.....
The night is still and unseasonably warm, little beads of sweat have formed above my upper lip and across my forehead. Crouched just beyond the illumination of the window, I see her sitting in the chair lazily watching a TV program, left hand absently twirling a tendril of hair between her fingers. She needs me, I can feel her every fiber calling out to me, yearning for me. The only thing between her and I is a thin pane of glass, I could so easily break that barrier, but I won't, not today.
A loud crash echoes from behind, setting me on edge. Silently cursing, catching a glimpse of her through the corner of my eye, I collapse down to my hands and knees in anticipation of her glance.
She turns and looks in my direction, but I'm too quick, she doesn't see me. I've crouched beneath the window, contemplating. I should leave, I can come back tomorrow, but I have to see her one last time. I can't leave without saying goodbye.
Circling to the side window, I peek in one last time. So beautiful, her head sleepily resting in the palm of her upturned hand, eyes half shut. She should go to bed, she doesn't get enough sleep, she needs me to help her, she needs someone to look out for her.
God knows that useless excuse of a husband doesn't. How does someone like that end up with someone like her? She deserves someone so much better, someone who will take care of her, someone who will make sure she eats properly, and gets enough sleep, someone who will love her the way she deserves to be loved.
II.
Sitting in the recliner, eyes heavy with sleep, the warmth of the house has lulled her into an almost dreamlike state. Her husband was due home hours ago, she is not worried though. He is always late, she has grown accustomed to it over the years. Trying her best to stay awake, she tries without much success to follow the story line of a sitcom.
Quickly glancing across the street, she is startled suddenly by the neighbors garage door slamming shut. "One of these days someone is going to get hurt by that Bill...." she says to herself. For years that door has had a mind of its own, slamming shut at the least expected moment.
Yawning, she pulls herself to stand, stretching, the need for sleep has consumed her.
III.
To Be Continued.....
posted by Sherri Sanders at 2:25 PM
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