Bryan Minear unsplash.com

Desolation

I’d lain rigid in bed for hours. The bed Joe and I had shared for fifty years.

The dawn chorus had been and gone. The chattering school children had passed by, and the cars all departed.

The ormolu clock, a wedding present from someone long forgotten, ticked away on the shelf.

Our room was stifling. Sweat trickled down my face, but Joe's body lay cold.

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Bibbly-bobbly bits, mainly fiction. Loving all Limericks. https://linktr.ee/CaroleMarples

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