She glanced at him, long enough to make an impression, but not enough to drive home the point.
"What did I say?"
"What you always do. Nothing."
He snorted; stood up; crossing the living room in three long strides and braced himself against the windowpane, glancing out into the night. He spoke over his shoulder, "I'm in trouble for nothing. Great."
She threw up her hands, slapped the cushions next to her and reached for the glass of wine. She took one long draught. Emptying the glass. Better. Warmth spread. The tightness behind her eyes smoothed. Feeling nothing.
Horrorshow about 8 years ago
I liked it. Score another vote from me. :-)