SincerelyRanda
The framework of the house is very strong, it could stand a tornado, I'll bet!" My wife gushed. "Really, I'm in love with it all! What do you think honey?" But before I could even take a breath she was talking again "I'm not that crazy about the color in the dining room, but we can change that, can't we dear?" I nodded my head slightly, trying to look noncommittal. She had no idea I was leaving her in just a few days, and I didn't have the heart to tell her now.
A disgusted noise came from the back of his throat. "I don't know, Hillary. I look out into this stillness and I can't help but wonder what all this is *for*. Why... *why* are we here? Just. It doesn't make any *sense*, Hils. It doesn't, and you know it, and I just cant accept it."
"Of course, a sterile work environment is always *preferable* but what with all the permits one must apply for not to mention the schooling one must go through for a silly piece of paper, how could one have the *time*? No, I think it might be better if we do this my way. It'd be much quicker, after all."
"Breathe" he told himself. "I must keep a level head, or I'll never get out of here alive." Wincing, David brought himself up as much as he could without scraping his head on the inside of the car's trunk. He had heard somewhere that if he applied enough force on the brake light of a car, it would pop out and he could wave for help. Hoping against hope, he managed to locate the panel that hid the lights, pulled it off and ripped out the wires. David inhaled sharply and, with all his might, pushed.
He thought about the work ahead of him, and just knew he would collapse. He knew that he must be strong, but it seemed impossible...
Still, if she could choose, she'd pick neither of them. But Mara knew a woman in her position and of her age couldn't afford to be alone. She gave a heavy sigh. Frankly she hated the both of them, so she was the loser either way.
Everyone stayed away from the unkempt man who lived in the small house in the center of town which was a great pity. He knew more than he let on, and had a great many stories in his head just waiting for the right person to tell them to. Yet years passed on and he remained alone, lifting neither pen nor his eyes from the many books that occupied the dark spaces where no person but he had ever tread.