Status: hiatus. Slow updates
A Gentle Reminder, That Life is Unkind.
.03.
Em? It's me, I miss you. I'm going to be home soon, I promise. Please, just call me back so I know you're okay, please? I love you Emma. Please, just let me know you're okay.
Emma pressed delete. She couldn't hear his own desperation anymore. It was making her sick. Her stomach was already churning and the wine in her system was not helping the feeling. Guilt seemed to overcome her as she pulled the thick down comforter off the bed dragging it to the sofa before wrapping herself in a cocoon and flipping the television on. The clock below it read eleven fifteen. If Emma was doing her math correctly, she had approximately ten hours till Jona would be in England. Ten hours, nine minutes and twenty-six...twenty-five...twenty-four seconds....
twenty-three...
twenty-two...
She let herself fall asleep.
It was the first real sleep she had gotten since Jona left. Aside from her wine binges of course.
Wrapped tightly in a cocoon of a white feathered blanket, Emma let herself sleep. She didn't dwell on the overwhelming sick feeling in her stomach, nor the rhythmic pattern of throbbing in her head or the obnoxious ticking of the old fashion clock bother her. This was what Emma needed.
Comatose.
Emma pressed delete. She couldn't hear his own desperation anymore. It was making her sick. Her stomach was already churning and the wine in her system was not helping the feeling. Guilt seemed to overcome her as she pulled the thick down comforter off the bed dragging it to the sofa before wrapping herself in a cocoon and flipping the television on. The clock below it read eleven fifteen. If Emma was doing her math correctly, she had approximately ten hours till Jona would be in England. Ten hours, nine minutes and twenty-six...twenty-five...twenty-four seconds....
twenty-three...
twenty-two...
She let herself fall asleep.
It was the first real sleep she had gotten since Jona left. Aside from her wine binges of course.
Wrapped tightly in a cocoon of a white feathered blanket, Emma let herself sleep. She didn't dwell on the overwhelming sick feeling in her stomach, nor the rhythmic pattern of throbbing in her head or the obnoxious ticking of the old fashion clock bother her. This was what Emma needed.
Comatose.
♠ ♠ ♠
This used to be a Rou Reynolds story. I changed my mind