Forlorn III

The woman took a long, warm bath; then changed into something less cumbersome.

She went downstairs, towards the living-room.



Gun-in-hand



She stared at her window. The night was shaded a strong yet light blue.
The wind was softly whistling between the trembling trees.
Atop the tress, laid the moon. Shoving light in an equal mode. All around.

Everything was silent , quiet , still , polite , introvert.

Except for the woman’s heart.

Although, if one were to listen closely enough, one would hear a low distant sound.
It sounded like a river… Or water being poured over, for that matter.

The woman headed towards the kitchen, and began making dinner.

But, one would like to wonder

Why would she be making dinner?

And – for who?

But, she needed to make dinner, despite of the events that were to happen that night.
It was, after all, part of the woman’s plan, and she most certainly did not want to mess the plan up.
Everything had to be done exactly the way it was written. Or else, everything simply fails.
She sat in the chair facing the main door, and simply remained there. Arms-crossed. Watching T.V , waiting for the man – to arrive.