The Broken Heart (continued).
What preceded it. .
Fortunately, he had the keys to the old warehouse. In the wooden building, they would not be disturbed. After removing the brass padlock, he opened the creaking door. The heat left by the afternoon sun hit them in the face. Inside it was dark and dusty. A wooden ladder stood against the hole in the attic, which was constructed of solid beams. Upstairs it was lighter because the roof was renewed with translucent corrugated sheets, and there were comfortable hay bales, he knew.
She crawled up the ladder first, with premeditated councils.
For an unnecessarily long time, he held down the ladder, following the elegant movements of her bare legs, all the way up. 'Safety First' he made himself wise. Upstairs, on the planks attic floor, lay, not by chance, six bales of straw neatly pushed together.
'Snow White' routinely slipped on the makeshift 'King size' bed.He made a backward jump so that he plopped backwards next to her.That worked better for him twenty years ago.The compressed hay did not provide the resilience it expected.He felt his double hernia playing up without showing anything.
The dust had not yet cleared or his agile hand was already slipping between her smooth legs.And then Miranda did what his wife had done to him the last times: Like a claw, she clasped his wrist and pushed his hand away.
Was quite a bit of a stretch at the end.
But indeed, I can vividly imagine the man doing this in a fit of despair. Without thinking too much.
I'm curious about what's to come.