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Weekly Contest #367
Francine didn’t wake up to the alarm. She’d been awake for an hour. She lay face up in the middle of the bed. She stared at the ceiling emptily. The way that people who have run out of tears stared at things. Vacant stares at the ceiling had not ceased. Almost a year since Adam had wheeled his suitcase to the front porch and driven away without looking back. Because she requested it. No, required it. Neither she nor Adam had attempted to establish contact, and chat, work things out. Though, she’d blocked him on Facebook. That was fine from h...
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