If Only

This is a super short 'flash fiction' piece

Emma sighed.  Two weeks ago she and Martyn had a terrible row, he’d stormed out, and she had heard the roar of his motorbike as he accelerated away.

Sat in the armchair, Martyn stared thoughtfully at her.  A whole to weeks and not a single word, she just seemed to look right through him!  Yesterday he arrived home, heard her crying.  He had wanted to take her in his arms and comfort her, but he just didn’t know how to break the pattern.

The telephone was ringing in the hall, Emma rushed to answer it, and he could see her through the half opened door, speaking intently to the caller.  Replacing the receiver, Emma grabbed her coat.  Martyn heard the front door slam.

The mantle clock struck midday; she would be at work by now.  It had been a silly row; Emma always had hated his motorbike.  In her opinion they were death traps, for years she had begged him to trade it in for a car.

In the function room at the rear of the White Hart Hotel, Emma gratefully accepted the oversized glass of wine, it was her third one.  Surprisingly the mood was upbeat, their friends and family had been so supportive.  Of course, she had blamed herself.  If she hadn’t kicked off when he’d told her he was off for a ride this wouldn’t have happened.

 A fortnight ago, after an hour of shouting, Martyn roared off the drive on that blasted bike, headlong into a bus.

The End

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