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Comes the Dark

Page 22

by David Stuart Davies

I walked her to the door.

  She kissed me tenderly on the lips. ‘I really did like you,’ she said again in a wistful whisper and then walked out of my life.

  I felt numb and helpless. I swore, loudly and with passion, I swore. Then I poured myself another drink and slumped down in my chair.

  Fresh start. The phrase slipped back into my mind. That’s what we’d all like wasn’t it? A new beginning. But that was something that me and millions of others would have to put on hold until the war was over. And one day, God willing, it would all be over. As the evening sunlight slanted into my room striping the floor with strange shadows, I raised my glass in a toast to that eventuality.

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