Member-only story
Through The Windows
A Short Story
The rain ran down the windows in tiny streams of silver. She sat at the small bistro table her husband had tucked into the corner of the solarium. Laptop open in front of her, brows furrowed, chin cupped in her hand, she tapped quickly at the keyboard, paused, typed a few more words and abruptly slammed her index finger into the delete key. The force was enough to cause the small metal table to shake slightly. She’d been frustrated with her writing lately and it was starting to wear on her, the strain had become visible. Creation isn’t easy and not always fun but she’d seemed to have found a stride in recent months; the straighter she sat, the more relaxed her face, the more decisive her typing, the words poured out of her. Today was not one of those days.
A clap of thunder pulled her focus and she sat back in the chair. Her eyes drifted off to some distant point in her line of vision and her hands left the keyboard. She turned quickly as her daughter walked into the room carefully carrying a mug in her tiny hands. The little girl took small, measured steps, eyes locked on the steamy liquid, trying her very best not to spill. She reached her mother and set the cup down, a smile spread across her round face, the pride almost palpable. A soft word of thanks and a tight squeeze and the little girl dashed back the way she came, mission accomplished.
