The stars and stripes hung dauntingly above the
squares on the fund-raiser calendar. One more day, one less empty box as she
squeaked the crimson sharpie across the half-filled page.
Hesitantly walking toward the kitchen sink with
the now-empty glass—syrah drops still visible along the gold band (such a
perfect wedding gift), she paused, contemplating the hours that lay ahead.
Looking back over her shoulder across the granite countertop to the uncorked
bottle, what could it hurt?
Not tonight. She had an early shift in the
morning.
As her hand reached to turn the faucet, the
street light coming in through the window grazed the silver band on her finger.
Such a short time ago, that sight would have been a comforting
reassurance.
Not anymore.
The
glass clanged against the stainless steel sink, shattering the silence. One
day at a time, just one day at a time, Janet reminded herself as she turned
to walk away, running a shaking hand through her hair, which was long overdue
for a trim. Time just doesn’t seem to
matter as much anymore, she thought, turning off the overhead kitchen
lights then walking over to the couch. She curled up, wrapping herself tightly
in the navy fleece blanket and hugging the pillow she’d brought in from the
bedroom earlier, and stared at the popcorn ceiling while hoping desperately for
a peaceful night’s sleep.
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