Hello! Please enjoy my writing! I was listening to Cleopatra by The Lumineers, and somehow I conjured up and entire love story in my head. Hopefully I give the images from my mind justice!
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I'm really proud of this one.
-Mel x
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CHAPTER ONE.
The tap is dripping but the faucet is fully closed. It's literally so tight I can barely open it again. I count the seconds between each drip, precisely three seconds.
One
Two
Drip
One
Two
Drip
I've been staring at it for 20 minutes in severe annoyance. Gilbert was meant to fix it last Thursday, along with the other plumbing issues. It's not a huge issue, but it is a huge issue. How do taps even break? They have one purpose, how is it possible to mess that up?
My reflection stares back at me, tired blue eyes blinking in time with the dripping, granite faucet. I couldn't sleep last night, or the night before. In fact, I can't quite remember the last time I had over 4 hours of sleep. I've stopped taking my sleeping tablets because they make me sluggish and drowsy into the next day, and my mother doesn't approve of me needing chemicals to do normal people things. Such as sleep.
Or be happy.
I've been procrastinating because I know I have to meet up with Stella today. It's not that I don't enjoy her company, it's that I have to leave my house, and it's freezing out. I hate October and the bone-chilling breeze that Dahlia Manor endures every year. Stella agreed to help me sort out the apartment, and bring some of the boxes that the movers didn't bring. I only have a few plates and some clothes but I guess she thought I'd like "moral support". She's always too worried about me.
The doorbell rings, echoing through the empty, hollow halls of this once-dream home. I wasn't expecting her to come until after lunch, and it's only 9 in the morning. Perhaps she managed to get the morning off as well, since she was only meant to have a half day. I quickly run down the two flights of stairs, almost out of breath by the time I reach the front door. Without checking, I fling the door open and I instantly regret it.
Always check before you open the door, Rosie, he used to say to me. I always thought it was stupid because they'd need access to our gate, which is protected not only by a pin code but also a 24-hour surveillance company. However, I'm seriously questioning my own beliefs when his disapproving gaze falls on my underdressed, woke-up-a-half-hour-ago appearance. He's chilling enough to make me uncomfortable, making me squeeze my dressing gown around me a little tighter.
He hands me a bunch of mail before pushing past me, his long strides confident and uncaring. Two words that could only describe my almost ex-husband, and the old light of my life. But there is no light in this house anymore, any quiet flame extinguished with each and every encounter.
I haven't seen him in almost four months. My lawyer said I should minimise as much contact with him as to not risk any possible grounds of "collusions". My mother thought it was extremely ridiculous that we needed a lawyer, that we even wanted a divorce in the first place. Of course, she takes my glorious husband's side.
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FAMILIAR
ChickLit"It's not about what she wants, it's about what we want, Dalton," his name rolls off my tongue and I realise it's been so long since I've said it. Between myself and Stella, we call him The Poltergeist. Because he won't get out of my life. "It's n...
