She isn’t sure if she feels anxious about unknowns or the facts.

I wish I could cry and melt away.

She puts down her phone and looks out the window, at the wind and rain pelting the pane.

She met him when she was least expecting to get involved in a relationship.
He was charming and kind to her. He listened and cherished what she had to say. He made her feel special, cared.
She felt content. She had a rewarding job and was in a comfortable relationship. She thought her life was perfect.
When his returns for her calls became infrequent, she didn’t think much of it. He said his work kept him busy and preoccupied. She believed him.
Once the absence of his name on the incoming call list became a fixture, she knew. She wasn’t surprised when he gave her the ultimatum, the “it’s-not-you-it’s-me” talk.

She isn’t sure whether she should call him or not.

I should tell him. He needs to know.

She feels the movement, looks down at her belly and picks up the phone with conviction.

©A Mixed Bag

For Sunday Photo Fiction – week of February 26th 2017 and The Daily Post’s daily prompt, Quicken .

12 thoughts on “seed

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