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By Irish Date: 2004 Jun 08 Comment on this Work [[2004.06.08.03.50.25351]] |
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She stood leaning against the window frame, watching the cars in the street below. And all that she had put up with and lived through flashed through her mind as she puffed on the cigarette that was no longer forbidden. The suitcase was packed and waiting by her side. "Smack", across the back of her head because his dinner wasn't on the table fast enough. Another time, they talked over Sunday dinner, the table laid with her favourite china and she had spent hours cooking what he liked. He was angry this time because, because of something she couldn't remember and suddenly he was lifting up the end of table and the food and dishes came down onto her lap. The sight of the taxi brought her back to the present. She stubbed out the cigarette under her heel, grinding it into the wooden floor with a determination and resolve borne of finally having reached the end of this life and a start of another. The taxi driver honked his horn. She closed the blinds and turned towards the door. Reaching for the suitcase she winced as the pain shot through her arm under the cast. Stepping carefully over him to avoid getting his blood on her shoes, she opened the door to the apartment and looked back to see if she had left anything behind. "No, nothing" she thought and closed the door behind her. Making her way down the stairs, the weight of the past 20 long hard years fell away and she walked out into the sunlit street to the taxi. |