by Susan A Eames
I waited around the corner, just shy of the zebra crossing. I knew his habits well.
He left the Off-Licence with a bag. Wine? Or perhaps she preferred champagne? I started the car.
He strode towards the crossing. I eased onto the main road, smooth as cream. I knew he wouldn’t notice me. That was the problem. He never noticed me.
The fact was, despite my efforts, he never saw the real me - never noticed the smart, sassy woman who lived inside this plain-Jane skin: a woman smart enough to know when something was wrong and have the guts to investigate. And despite being side-swiped by his betrayal, a woman still smart and brave enough to make a difficult decision.
He stepped onto the crossing. I accelerated. For a split second our eyes locked - his widened in alarm and realisation. Too late, mate.
Bodies don’t bounce. They thud and crunch and roll away kinda slow. It surprised me. I smelt whisky, not wine – that was a surprise too.
Janice hit the Print button, satisfied with the opening of her new thriller. She placed the draft strategically on her desk, knowing her husband would read it.
About the author:
Susan A. Eames left England over twenty five years ago to explore the world and dive its oceans. She has had travel articles and short fiction published on three continents. After several fascinating years living in Fiji she has relocated to West Cork in Ireland. Susan blogs at: susan-a-eamestravelfictionandphotos.blogspot.ie