“Sarah, she sleeps with you?” A whisper broke the silence.
Shelly released the grip she had on the kitchen towel, used to dust the bread crumbs into a plate she held at the corner of the table. She straightened her back and turned to him. Just shaking her head at him, then looking down at the work she was doing.
“Sarah, our daughter, Shelly, I don’t know her…twelve years is a long time.” Deo’s eyes glazed as the lamp’s light in the centre of the table beat against his face.
Shelly moved closer to him, as if to hug him, but stopped short. He looked at her, hesitated, but then threw his right hand around her neck, pulling her closer to him. As Shelly cried softly against his chest, he turned his head and looked out through the window and into the dark distance.
Copyright © 2017 David Alexian
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