¡Ay! Esta imagen no sigue nuestras pautas de contenido. Para continuar la publicación, intente quitarla o subir otra.
The telegram floated gently to the floor as the scream of a wailing woman flooded my ears, only then did I realise that wailing woman was me...
The sweet aroma of pumpkin soup permeated the air as the tinging of the spoon hitting the side of the bowl broke the lonely silence. It has been seven months since Alexander left for war and nothing felt the same. There was this putrid fog of fear and loneliness that slithered in beneath the window sills tearing away every aspect of joy I had leaving me feeling afraid, afraid that he might not come home. This same fear that imprisoned me twisted my insides making me feel sick. Angrily I threw the silver spoon into the bowl letting my head drop into my small pale hands that rested against the dining room table. A lone tear streaked down my crimson cheek falling upon my quivering lips letting the floodgate of my forest green eyes open.
