Thursday, 13 October 2011
Thursday @ 3 - 'A SIMPLE PLEASURE'
This story started off a long time ago. In fact, I was surprised to see the remnants lying at the back of the 'virtual' filing cabinet. Anyway, I picked it up, dusted it off and tweaked it a little and now it fits the criteria for 'Thursday@3' - coming in at 333 words!
Here you go!
A SIMPLE PLEASURE
She knew time was running out, fast, but opening that door was akin to peeking in Pandora's Box and she couldn’t take the risk. Instead, Brenda glanced up at the clock on the dresser. Patience, dear, she thought to herself and brushed a wisp of hair back off her face.
He’d be home soon. All the long day she’d planned for this. Everything was in place, but she just needed a little more time. Life had been full of so little joy these last few years and simple pleasures had to be taken as and when they presented themselves.
So as she sat and waited, resisting the urge to open the door even just for a peep, she turned towards the letter on the shelf by the dresser. Fingering the envelope she withdrew the flimsy paper inside and settled herself on a stool to read it again for the umpteenth time that day. Her lips twitched as her eyes darted across the page. Even now, she felt her heart thudding in her chest as the smile she could not repress stretched out on her lips.
She folded the page, tucking it carefully back inside in the envelope before she placed it back on the shelf beside the quietly ticking clock.
Arthur would be home soon and then she’d be able to tell him, show him the letter, let him know the wonderful news that Laurence was safe and well.
In the days and weeks after V.E. day they had waited for news and finally it had come. Although she would not let herself fully believe it until their son walked back through the front door this, at least, was a time for celebration.
Another two minutes, she thought. Two minutes. Not so long to wait. Besides, a whole month’s rations were just too much to waste by opening the oven door too soon. Patience, dear, she thought sitting down by the sink. They’d toast their son’s repatriation with tea and cake.
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