Whispers

 
Expectations 12/27/2010
 
She was the last thing he had expected.

Cold, winter night. Lonely fire. Memories and photographs. These were things he had expected. A green-eyed angel, twisting bare fingers together, on the front porch of the house they had once shared he had not.

He couldn't stop staring at her hands without their gloves—another thing he had not expected.

"Ah've got control now," she blurted.

He looked back up to those heavenly green eyes. Control... And swallowed. Hard. He hadn't expected that either.

"Ah know ya weren't expectin' me..." Her voice trailed off.

He opened the door. She stepped inside.

 


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