L G Surgeson
Copyright 2015 L G Surgeson
All Rights Reserved
Acknowledgements
Thanks to the editing and proof-reading teams.
Dedication
This story is dedicated to Louise.
She Was Like the Island
My hands were shaking on the steering wheel. For the first time in fifteen years, I wished I had a cigarette. I wanted to cry, but tears wouldn’t fall. With my foot pressed flat on the accelerator pedal, I flew along the island’s only main road, throwing the car into the bends like a slalom skier. I had no idea why I was driving so fast. I didn’t want to get home. I didn’t want to have to deal with what happened next. I couldn’t imagine a time when it would be possible to think of anything else, to do normal things like putting on the kettle or watching the telly. All thought was taken up with her. The way the sunlight had danced in her eyes in those final moments; the way the years had tucked laugh lines around them. How, even though I was looking through the fine mesh of time, she was still the beautiful girl I remembered. The years rushed in my head, passing between now and then. I let out a painful, dry sob and flung the car around a corner.