write4ten :: deck
Friday’s write4ten prompt was “DECK”, and it worked perfectly to round out the scene started with my Menage Monday on Friday post. I know, I know, two writing posts in a row on a craft blog. I have a crafty post lined up ASAP, I promise! I have actually been crafting, yesterday the children were well enough not to need mummy snuggles all day, so I snuck in some crafting and writing. Keep an eye out for the bloggers boogie, too, coming in a couple of hours.
The night closed in, as they sat and looked out at the desert stretching away towards a distant horizon, the last rays of light reflecting the red of the dirt into the sky. Like so many times before, silent as they sat with a drink in hand, but now the silence wasn’t companionable. The tension that had started in the car was still heavy between them, and Paul gritted his teeth, frustrated that what was once so easy, was now so hard. He’d thought they’d made a breakthrough this morning, when they stopped to look at the sculptures. For a change, Lauren had turned to him, like she used to, instead of retreating into herself, insisting she was fine, when the anger radiating from her so clearly told him she wasn’t. But now they were back to where they’d started this morning, and more than once he opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. They’d worked so hard to make it this far, they knew long-distance wasn’t going to be easy, but it also wasn’t going to be forever, and the end was so close. He’d already started applying for jobs closer to where Lauren was living. He knew she’d tried once or twice for jobs that would allow her to move back with him. But so far nothing seemed to be working out. The latest application looked hopeful though, and while it was a bit longer commute, at least they’d be together. With a sigh he stood and walked to the edge of the deck, jumping down onto the sand and turning to face Lauren still sitting under the canvas annexe of their tent. He smiled at her, and realised that no matter how hard it was at the minute, she was here, she was his, and that alone was enough for hope. The rest would take care of itself.
For more on Lauren and Paul’s story, click here.