Short Story Preview: Frozen in Time
Last Thursday I drenched my shopping list: The sprouts ran into the toilet rolls and the mushroom soup into a packet of aspirin. I took a screwed up tissue from my sleeve and mopped up, but the little nouns awash with my salty tears, were now illegible. So I screwed up the paper and pushed it behind two packets of ginger nuts. Biscuits were not on my list. This aisle, this sea of goodies I try to avoid when I shop.
Last week my husband left me another kind of note unblemished by tears; and to add insult to injury we were flooded out. Literally. Now the cob walls cried. The stream outside our thatched cottage had burst its banks filling our garden and turning it a murky brown; drenching the roses and frightening Monty our Cairn, who ran inside for shelter.
She called then … my glamorous neighbour Estelle.
I was filling buckets with filthy sludge as she sloshed through the wet in yellow wellies.
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