Thundering Sunday

A frayed greenish thunder-cloud hovers above us like a thick, angry lid. Only a few loud bangs so far, but all the birds are suddenly quiet as if holding their breaths. Not a leaf is stirring on the giant horse chestnut. I’m in my studio, writing and trying to ignore a tooth ache.

(image: pixabay.com)

In ‘House of Rose’, Tom and Rose spend an afternoon just like this together.

“–‘I’m going to see me parents on Sunday’, he said late one evening. They were stretched out on her bed, naked under the whirring ceiling fan. The windows stood wide open in a futile attempt to relieve the muggy air. Thunderbolts painted toothy shadows on the toothpaste walls.
–‘Yeah?’
–‘Yeah.’ Turning on his side, he rested on his arm; letting a tanned finger lazily caress her arm, her collarbone, her jaw. ‘I was hoping you’d come. I want them to meet you.’ –’I’ll bring a pretty planter of summer flowers.’ She smiled, and didn’t bother to show how pleased she was that he had asked.”
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The novella is coming along, albeit slowly, Dear Reader. I don’t always write in sequence and, at 27K I have written about half of the ending but not tied everything up that’ll lead there. So, I’ll get back to doing that now, relishing the fact that it’s finally cool enough to wear a sweater and light a candle again.

Let’s keep our fingers crossed for rain! Have a lovely Sunday, Dear Reader!