Indian Model 21

His thoughts were interrupted when Mrs Howard quietly opened the front door. She was back from her night out much earlier than expected.Immediately, he knew that she had been crying; her make-up had run in black lines down her face, her clothes were dishevelled and a mess.“Oh Bobby,” She broke down in floods of tears as the door clicked shut behind her. She ran across the hall and threw herself into his arms. She sobbed, deep-wracking sobs of utter desolation, soaking his shoulder as her tears collected in his tee shirt, staining it beyond redemption. He held her close, his arms around her slim waist, then stroking her hair to try to soothe her. Gradually, her sobbing subsided. Somehow, and he didn’t really have a clear recollection of exactly how it happened; they were naked in her bed. Chapter 2Mrs Howard’s evening out had been a disaster. As so often happens when work colleagues go out, away from their normal environment, a different side of their personality often becomes. Encased in my all-weather coat, hood pulled up, a flask of coffee under my arm, and enough cigarettes in my pocket to allow me to chain smoke myself to a well-deserved early grave. I chose the bench most obviously visible from Melissa's apartment, scrunched myself down on the wooden planks, poured a coffee, and with trembling fingers, lit my first cigarette. If necessary, I would wait all day.It wasn't necessary, though I had finished the coffee by the time I spied her coming towards me on unsteady steps. She plonked herself down on the far end of the bench, easily complying with the government's two-metre rule, like me, a hood mostly concealing all but the hatred burning in her eyes."What do you want?"I don't know. What did I want? Forgiveness? Understanding? I pulled down my hood. Revealed my battered hideousness. Jyestha before her Aphrodite.She lowered her hood. Forced me to feast on her defiled beauty. Demanded I inspect all that I had wrought. Made me stare deep into.
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