The Night Out
“Of course,” I smiled but I couldn't bare to stay any longer, with Anna gone the air at home felt suffocatingly different, it didn't feel as warm. Every where I turned I found myself unconsciously expecting her to pop out and the thought of never seeing her again made me feel sick. I had to leave. After breakfast, we prepared ourselves to leave, Margret waited in the car and I was to join her soon bit as I trotted to the car, I realised I'd not said my goodbyes. I turned and Dad was standing by the front porch with his cigar in hand. “Dad can I talk to you for a moment?,” I said, walking to met him were he stood. “Sure son, what's wrong?” he blow out the smoke in his breath and dabbed his cigarette ash on the railing. “I didn't mean what I said to mother yesterday,” I muttered “ I
- Writer
