The challenge at Julia’s place this week was to create a story containing the prompt “the line was drawn”.
“But… the line was drawn under all that business,” Gavin spluttered, slamming his glass on the table. “We agreed, remember?”
“I believe you said something of the sort,” said Sarah, balancing a Louboutin on the toe of her elegantly extended foot. Men always mistook silence for agreement.
“So why this, now?”
Why indeed? Revenge? Punishment? Who knew?
She glanced at the suitcases stacked neatly in the hall.
“You’ll hate it,” he argued, “you won’t be able to cope.”
Her mother strolled into the room. “My room is lovely, dear. I just know I shall be happy here. Would you take my suitcases upstairs Gavin, there’s a dear.”