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Weekly Contest #49
I had to watch her pace the room, her footsteps leaving sharp turns in the carpet like a painter’s skillful flick of the wrist. Her face was contorted, squished and squashed by anticipation until I barely recognized her anymore. I pressed my face against the tinted glass, wanted more than anything to run to her, to end her torment, but instead I stayed. Fear tied me down just as it propelled her to walk her well-tread path in the carpet. She sat down heavily on the carpet, eyes locked on the phone as her feet twitched and she nibbled on her ...
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