As light faded she forced open her eyes, drawn onward by the promise, of a moment’s passion withheld, of his brief rigidity as she turned away.
Like a relic, sacrosanct, desecrated.
A broken marble man, shattered.
She set him on the footpath, closed her door, twisted the t h u n k ing locks into place.
He is broken.
She is made whole.
Some lit-fic for you this weekend, thank to the Friday Fictioneers’ photo prompt you see above. Although now, with my glasses on, I can see he’s not marble but plastic – I guess there’s a metaphor in there, too…
Tell me what you think, I don’t venture into lit-fic territory very often!