She’s been depleted by it all.
The whispers, accusations, police, lawyers, the attention-seeking dewy-eyed young women queuing up for their fifteen minutes of fame.
Justice may have ultimately prevailed, but at what cost to his reputation, their social standing, even lifelong friendships, both his and hers.
They’ll all come crawling back soon though. Some already have.
Meanwhile she’s keeping herself busy, hanging up his pristine shirts, folding away his cashmere sweaters, pairing his socks.
But it’s the soft rustle of something taped to the underside of his handkerchief drawer that signals it’s not yet over.
Not by a long shot.
It seems that every time I miss a week I return to find WordPress has modified itself yet again. I assume they believe that we’ve all got so much time on our hands there’s nothing we’d like better than to fill our hours puzzling our way through their new format and weird terminology. I’m beginning to contemplate a time when it may not be worth the effort. 😦 I would sadly miss my weekly foray with Friday Fictioneers though. Thanks once again for hosting, Rochelle.