It is 11.44 p.m.
Rhythmically, his torso pulses. A grunt and a wheeze signal the end.
Laila’s luminous eyes hold unshed tears. They now stare over his shoulder at the digital display.
11.47 p.m.
Every night; without exception.
©Shailaja V
Word count: 42
this is amazing .. Beautifully written ..
But why Laila allows it? Does not she know any better ?
Every night, to repeat that sadness? How awful!
So sad but poignantly told. How true that times – and dates – stick with us.
It’s sad when passion leaves a relationship. Your entry is a reminder that breaking routines and consciously appreciating loved ones is so important to marriages.
Good work…
Oh my. That’s so painful! This is beautiful
Great work
Expectations are foundation for many problems. Good one
this is well told but heartbreaking.
How sad must she be feeling. devoid of tender love it more mechanical. Shailaja , hats off to you as you have handled this story in aesthetic way.
You’re too kind, Susan. Thank you. So glad it’s your number!
Sad, true, and powerful writing. Well done! Also, I love the 11:47 reference. Eleven is my number 🙂
But tragically true for so many people. Sigh. . .
oh! how sad!! How utterly sad! 🙁