So I am going to use this as a prologue to a new thing. Don’t know how it will go – watch this space I guess and wish me luck
Stickiness was the first hint that something was amiss. Her hand, between her fingers, felt gluey and oddly crunchy as she bent them. Flora cracked open her lids and squinted in the harsh light, she tried to read the numbers on the flashing digital clock but her brain refused to make sense of the blur. She reached for her spectacles. The curtains hadn’t been closed, that was odd, very odd, the watery light showed smears and stains on the skin of her hand and arm, what the heck?
Her head pounded, a dull heaviness, her stomach contracted and acid threatened her throat. She tried to remember. Exactly how much had they drunk last night? Fighting the nausea she acknowledged instead misery that hovered at the edges of her heart. They’d had another row, another blazing, painful confrontation. Tears formed and overflowed, yet more tears. She had to get out, this…
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Diane M Dickson's Stories 