The ring

When Ryan left the room, it was well past Lily’s bed-time, and by the time he arrived home, cleaned his blood-stained hands, took off his rain-soaked jacket,  rubbed his fatique-ridden eyes, took a good hard look at his surprisingly collected face and went upstairs, Lily had long been dreaming cosily, toy giraffe in hand.

Shutting the door to her room, Ryan went into his and laid on the now king-sized bed.  Out of habit, he stayed on the right side.  After lying there for a few hours unable to sleep, he got up, walked past Lily’s room, out the door, in the car, and drove off, back to the building, and back into the room.  He grabbed the ring off the floor, and without so much as a glance at the lifeless woman on the floor, he turned and left.

This entry was posted in Short story, Writing. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s