“You can think about it while you rest,” she’d added.
He didn’t need to think about it. He already knew what was in store. Knowing ‘what’ was going to happen took a lot of uncertainty out of his future and eliminated the insecurity that came with the unknown. However, it didn’t fill-in the blanks of ‘how’ or ‘when’ he would achieve the ‘what’.
Fate sure was moving things along though.
The evening disappeared quickly as she’d prepared for work the next day and tucked him in before taking herself to bed.
Synch lay on his side in the darkened room. The slashes of street-light creeping through the venetian blinds was somehow comforting. He rolled over to give his right side relief and faced the back of the sofa. He should be going to work too. Five days cooped up inside was going to be a drag at best. It wasn’t at all like the movies where the shot hero was back on deck five seconds later in the next scene. This sucked.
A whiff of lamb stew tickled his saliva glands as his eyelids closed the world out. A good night’s sleep and he’d be fine in the morning. Yeah.
His backside ached, one side of his body had had enough of being laid on as did the other. The pale morning light signaled wakeup time. Morning ablutions, breakfast and out the door was not on his roster today. He scrunched the pillow, settled his head and listened to flowing water as Cindy showered. She dressed and was fastening her earings when she bounced into the lounge-room.
“Hi.” She sat on the coffee table smiling down at him. “Ready for breakfast?”
“Mmmm,” he grumbled.
“Cheer up. You’ll feel better soon,” she said busying herself in the kitchen.
Synch’s mobile rang.
“Yeah, David?” he said into it.
“Fine,” he said. Hot toast and tea aromas filled his nose.
“Oh,” the down-turn in his voice was noticeable. “What now? …oh… …mm… yeah… no I haven’t decided.” He disconnected the call as Cindy placed toast and tea before him.
“David Buchanan didn’t make it,” he said. He gazed past Cindy.
She held his hand.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured.
“Finestra wants to know if I’ll be a consultant for the police investigation unit.”
He gently massaged her palm with his thumb.
“If I do, it might help catch the bad guys,” he said weakly injecting humour into the prospect. Clear memories of the last few days bore immense influence over his decision.
By Diane L Wood
My Bio: http://write-intention.com/Diane_L_Wood.html
A Short Short Story: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=9
A Short Short Story: http://ancientearthashortstory.blogspot.com/
My Fun Page: http://easywaytowrite.19.forumer.com/viewtopic.php?t=47
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