soph
Eleanor tapped ceaselessly on the typewriter, never pausing in contemplation, not hesitating when distractions arose. In the next room, Mark's eyes narrowed as he grew less patient with the incessant noise. Unable to take any more, he flung open the door and glared at her wordlessly. She didn't stop typing, didn't even look up. He grabbed the paper, pulling it out of the typewriter and ripping it as he did so. The first tear in their marriage. That stupid machine.
Claire's eyes were wide as she stood on her tiptoes, straining to see out of the window. With one hand she gripped the windowsill to keep herself up, and in the other she clutched her teddy bear, battered and worn with love and devotion. Beyond the glass, endless stretches of woodland were visible as far as the eye could see. So much beauty and mystery. So many possibilities.
I stared upwards, mouth slightly open in amazement. Gazing upwards at the immense skyscrapers that almost pierced the clouds, I realised that I had no idea that the transition from my countryside home to this modern fairytale would be so awe inspiring.
I bit down on my lip, my teeth gnawing on the soft flesh subconciously. This was something that my mother had told me not to do on many occasions, but she wasn't here to tell me that now. That was the problem. I lowered my face to hide my misty eyes.
It was a nail. Just a nail. But there was something about the way it jutted out of the wall, tinged with rust and at a peculiar angle that made my skin crawl. It was offensive, but I'm not sure why. I screwed my eyes shut and willed it to disappear.