A low buzzing sound awakes Isadora. She groans, rolling over to bury her head in her pillow. Her entire body aches deliciously, the complete opposite to the comedown from a high, and she thinks she could get used to this.
This.
Wait.
She blearily opens her eyes, looking at the other side of her bed. It is decidedly empty, the mussed blankets cool to her touch.
Isadora looks over at her bedside table as her mobile phone vibrates again, the glow of the screen shielded by the surface of the table.
Sent: 10:26am
These are good drafts.
-EG
Sent: 10:27am
Amazing, in fact.
-EG
Isadora is opening a new text to reply when a crippling pain explodes in her chest. Her vision goes white and she's wracked with waves of agony. After an eternity, they recede.
There's more muffled buzzing, and Isadora gropes through her sheets, her hands sweaty and her breath coming in ragged gasps.
Sent: 10:35am
I have a couple of notes
though, I'll send them
later. I'd also like to talk.
This could easily be
enough for a book.
-EG
Isadora fumbles at the screen, taking twice as long as usual to shakily tap out a reply.
Sent: 10:37am
not drafts. theyre finished
Sent: 10:40am
I thought we'd agreed to
work on reducing the
"robotic, technical,
emotionless voice that
characterises the majority of
Isadora Heroux's pieces"?
-Sandra Barnes,
The Times Magazine
Sent: 10:41am
not these ones. theyre
done
Sent: 10:43am
Fine. We'll talk after
the publicity meeting
tomorrow evening. By
the way I'd appreciate
it if you turned up.
-EG
Sent: 10:44am
i want to do the reading
Sent: 10:47am
Who are you and what
have you done with
Isadora Heroux?
-EG
Sent: 10:48am
Im serious.
Sent: 10:48am
Really? You're sure?
-EG
Sent: 10:49
Positive.
YOU ARE READING
The Poet and The Soldier
Short StoryTell me how to love you in a fashion that'll never go out of style; Tell me the key to loving you in a way that unlocks a future of 'us'. Tell me how this tale of ours makes sense in the end. (Please let it make sense)
