The Library

by Bella Osborne

He looked around the small dim living room. It had hardly changed since Mum died. Just that it was a bit neglected and more of a mess. What he’d said gave me something to think about. Girls liked romance novels. I wondered if that was still true?

Everything was stagnant. There was a mound of my father in the bed. Still and silent. I waited in the doorway, not sure what to do. At last he let out a heavy breath – he was alive. I closed the door and retreated to my room.

comfort that humans require – the need for physical contact. An embrace can be on many different levels but the basic sensation of emotional and physical warmth given freely by another is most noticeable when it is no longer there. If she’d realised the last time she was hugged was significant she would have paid more attention, committed it to memory so she could recall the sensations at will for the many times since, when all she had needed had been for someone to hold her.

It had been good to be out and surrounded by people but the brief exchange over what size drink she wanted and whether she was eating in or out couldn’t be classed as a significant human interaction. There was something oddly isolating about being surrounded by people and yet completely alone.

She slapped me on the back with more force than I’d expected she was capable of. ‘You’ve earned your lunch,’ she said, striding back to the farmhouse. *

My life had peaked.

The man who had brought her back from the brink. The person she had expected to spend her twilight years with.

There was a head and there were legs. I looked again. There were three front legs. Three? Bloody hell.

め

ye and she’s lying to you

The look of pain on Tom’s face haunted her. He was the very last person she wanted to hurt. She hated that he’d assumed her son was dead but it had been much easier than to explain why River had been taken into care. She’d fought to keep her baby but at the time she was in no fit state to have parented him properly.