Flash fiction from November 2014 (suitable for today’s freezing weather! brrr!)
It was not just the frost that numbed his mind as he trudged home; his heart froze long ago, finding expression only in his writing.
The cleaner was singing again, he noted as he hung his coat. “Can you be quiet? I’m trying to work!” He growled, pulling the chair up to his desk. Typewriter posed, a cup of coffee slid silently beside his elbow. He nodded. Phrases squeezed out onto the page.
She was humming confound her! It was the Latin background. “Let’s face it,” he thought, “I can’t afford anyone else.” He paused watching her smile as she placed his wet shoes by the fire. He didn’t pay her to do that, or make coffee. She was just a natural mother, not like his had been… He recalled the time she’d brought her little daughter, how they’d cleaned and laughed together. He’d got no work done that day…
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