the scent on the clothes you left behind,
and a memory
is all I have left.
She places the photograph on the table beside the mirror in her bedroom and stands back to look at it. The frame is guilt and the image is one of profound regret. A ball forms in her chest, a balloon of grief waiting to burst.
But the time is not right. She can’t let it go. Not yet. There are many things to do; arrangements to be made, people to see, hands to shake, and mouths to feed. Explanations to be invented.
And then there was the private eye to take care of. He knows everything.
Her political aspirations can afford no compromise.
This post is part of SoCS! Join in now! http://lindaghill.com/2014/10/31/the-friday-reminder-and-prompt-for-socs-november-114/