Friday, February 02, 2007

55 Fiction Friday: Solitude, desired

Friday makes a (triumphant?) return.

The metallic clicking of your fork against your plate, the sound of your breathing - loud, through your nose - while you chew. I feel my blood pressure rising, a thrumbing in my temples. You're oblivious, enjoying your toast (rye) and eggs (scrambled.)

1 comment:

roonie said...

Ooh, this is a deep one! I'm getting some serious mental pictures...breezy kitchen, stony silences, icy glares, robin's egg blue dishes...yeah. Very visual.