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Weekly Contest #204
She waited at the window for him.The August heat was unbearable in this town. She felt like one of those Scarlett O’Hara types, those Southern dames. Slightly feverish. Slightly flushed. She waited.He turned up just after nine. Before, whenever he would pull up in his Ford with the radio playing that heartbreak music, there was a kind of cool wetness in the air. She would imagine rain. Tonight was hot and dry. And still. Like something big had been and gone. Like the circus had been and gone.‘I ain’t got a world of time’, he said.&...
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