Outside the girl's bedroom she stared at the dust: a thick covering that turned the white of the windowsill and the brown of the bookcase grey. Betrayed by the amount of dust, she felt accused, disgusted with herself for not having cleaned sooner. It's terrible, she whispered. She slapped her hand down hard onto the windowsill, disturbing the serenity of the house and sending a billow of dust into the air. She winced. Damn that noise, she thought, her hands automatically flying up to protect her ears. I hate the jagged, searing noise, the collision of metal, the screaming, the -
Neville Hunt about 1 month ago
Well she made the noise, didn’t she! Pull yourself together Mrs E, for the sake of your girls!