Clamming Up


  The bus hadn’t moved in at least an hour. The traffic had seen to that. Whilst the bus had rolled towards Fort Lauderdale at a steady hundred kilometres an hour it had been easy to forget her growing reservations, or at least her nerves about meeting him again. It had been years, and the years hadn’t been easy. Or kind. The windows had steamed up against the cold outside and she felt herself doing the same. Easier to censor the whole thing and protect herself. To steam up against all the possibilities the day could offer. For better or worse.


~ by Joseph Blame on December 15, 2010.

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