Thursday, 14 July 2016

Story #324 - The funeral guy #part 6

When we arrived at her home, or my former home, she stopped in front of the door, looked away from it, and turned towards me.
"Whatever you see inside, I don't want to hear it. If you say something, I'll smack you."
I raised my hands to my shoulders as my irises widened.
She carried on to unlock the door.
We walked in in silence. I stepped softly, wanting to not bother her, while she went through the hallway with heavy steps.
'She's clearly upset.'
I throw my jacket on the couch, and am on my way to the toilet when I hear a glass break. My gut instinct tells me not to go there. But I do.

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