by Caroline Garlick

Created on: July 09, 2010

Frankie sank back into the couch and closed his eyes briefly. He knew Carly would be home from work soon, so he would need to make his escape, erasing all evidence of his day's presence in the flat, before returning a few minutes after her so as to complete the illusion. He smiled fondly at the black-and-white photo of the two of them above the television. Carly had intended the picture to be a professional quality, serious couple-in-love piece, but they had both taken a fit of the giggles at the studio, so in good-humoured resignation the photographer had captured the moment as it was in all its honest, youthful beauty. And now it was a perfectly-preserved moment in time; etched on each of their faces were the dreams they shared as they were just beginning to build their life together. Frankie tore his eyes and mind away, and surveyed the floor at his feet. The newspaper had been on the table when she left this morning, so must be replaced. His coffee mug had been used and reused again over the course of the day and was stained brown both inside and out, so must be washed, dried and put away. And the tin foil would simply have to be stuffed into his pocket, to be disposed of once outside the building. The last hit was starting to wear off, but too late to worry about that now.

Twenty minutes later, Carly bustled through the door, struggling with the groceries she'd picked up on the way home and trying not to drop her car keys before they were safely hung on the hook behind the door. She kicked off her work shoes and threw her coat on the back of the chair.

"Frankie, you home?" she called to the empty apartment. No answer, so he wasn't home from work yet. She set about distributing the shopping between the fridge and the cupboards, leaving out the chicken and pasta intended for dinner. She tutted with exasperation when she remembered that last night's dinner dishes had not been washed, and began that task in lieu of cooking, when she heard the front door open and close. Frankie entered the kitchen. He was feeling the cold, not having realised that Carly would be getting the shopping after work, and thereby had been waiting in the November frost for longer than he would have liked.

"Hi, darling, good day at work?" Carly welcomed, standing on tiptoe to peck his cheek. He loved those kisses. She wasn't abnormally short nor he unusually tall, but  the height difference between them was such that it necessitated Carly's stretch, if Frankie was wearing shoes

• 1
• 2
• Next Page >>