The room was quiet and Mary sat staring out the window. The lights were out and her sons were asleep though she could hear the sounds of Terrence tossing and turning even from down the hall.
A small smile graced her mouth, he had never been a particularly quiet boy.
The smile faded just as easily as it had come, but he was far more guarded then ever before. He hadn’t been happy when his parents had separated. No one had been happy, but it had been necessary for the work that Warren was doing. Matthew hadn’t been happy either, but he hadn’t been as vocal about it as Terrence.
Terrence (Terry as he was more and more insisting on being called) was rather translucent about his feelings though Matt wasn’t far behind. This was the reason (other than their young ages) that the boys hadn’t been told about the plan. They were the children and they had responsible parents, parents who could conscience the idea of putting that kind of pressure on their sons.
They wished this hadn’t been necessary at all.
Mary shook her head, these thoughts wouldn’t help her. She looked down at the black clothing she was still wearing though her shoes had been placed by the door as always. It would be some time before she changed out of these clothes and into a pair of Warren’s sleep clothes, ones that he had left behind when he’d initially moved out.
It was eerie how little like him they smelled.
(She had only been wearing them every night since the separation had begun. The boys hadn’t known as she always went to bed after they did and woke long before they started to stir for the day.)
Once she had changed into the sleep clothes, she reached down to where a pocket in the pants would have been located, her hand seemed to disappear into a pocket though if anyone had looked closely (there was no one else in the bedroom) they would have realized that the pants had no pockets. Once her hand came back out, it was holding a simple golden band. It was larger than the one she still wore on her hand.
Mary slipped it over her thumb and spent the few hours she tried to sleep turning the large ring over and over with the fingers of her right hand.
Inspired by the words from this week’s prompt in Three Word Wednesday.
Wow! I was right there with her, turning that ring with my thumb like I did for years after …just wow!
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I’m glad I got that part accurate.
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Well, you got me so excited my muse would not stop bugging me and now I’m late for my hair appointment…haha. Love when I read something and it tickles my muse though.
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Sorry about you being late but I’m glad you muse liked it so much!
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No problem…made it in time.
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Excellent news!
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so sad a story but you captured it perfectly
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Thank you.
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I like the play on words…it’s as if that ring really does scream so loudly in the night
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I’m glad you caught that! (*grins*) You’re exactly right.
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How poignant this piece is. It is as though she has to gain some of his characteristics from his clothes to be a father as well as a mother to the the boys.
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I hadn’t thought of that… I’m glad you did though. It has certainly fired off things in my head!
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Beautiful narrative… Really grasping….
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Thank you.
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