he watched carefully as the young woman thrust his fine linen shirt in and out of the sink basin. she'd filled the sink with hot water and woolite to wash it.
he watched her, gave her his full attention, ignoring the café between his hands. the fine china warming to nearly unbearably hot in his hands.
her knuckles grew redder with each dunk into the hot, soapy water.
he held back the threat of tears and the lump in his throat.
she rang the water out of the shirt and hung it up over a makeshift line in the lounge.
(drabble 25 out of 31)
1 comment:
I like where this is going.
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