She had come to him because she could think of no better place to go. He knew that, and understood what it meant, but didn’t resent it. She was prepared now to spend the rest of her life with him, however long that might be. The moaning and screaming and gunfire they heard outside was a constant reminder that it would likely not be long at all. The commitment she had feared so much before was weirdly and tragically easy now. He held her in his arms, intoxicated by the mingled scents of sex and sweat and fear and death.
This 'drabble #26' has just landed with a bang in the novel I'm writing. Don't ask. I'll let you know when I figure it out. :-)ReplyDelete
Just came across your blog today. I like all this 'drabble', it'll help distract me from my 'clutter'. Drabble, clutter, all the same. We just can't stop writing novels. Keep writing. Good stuff. :-)
Thanks very much!ReplyDelete