Sunday, 1 September 2013

The next morning.

The next morning.

Debbie stumbled out of bed, rubbing her eyes still stuck together with sleep. Blindly she staggered into the en suite. Standing under the shower just as the water was cleansing her body so her mind began to clear. Slowly memories of the night before began to filter through the fog that she’d woken up with. She was definitely never going to have as much to drink, if anything, ever again. She fiercely rubbed the shampoo into her hair as if by doing so she could erase all recollections of the night before. But it was futile. The more she rubbed, the more she remembered. Hadn’t she always made it a rule not to phone, text or go on Facebook when she’d had a couple of drinks.

Washed and dressed she made her way down stairs, her footsteps as heavy as her heart. The light on the answering machine winked accusingly at her. Dare she listen or just delete it? Coffee first, she thought. Five minutes later coffee in hand she decided to check her emails first. Perhaps it was just a dream? The light on the phone still flashed, like a lighthouse beacon warning of danger to come. Thoughts of the night before persisted in pressing through the mental block she tried to put up. Unable to concentrate she decided to face the beast and listen to the message.

Tentatively pressing the button she screwed up her eyes as the voice of the man she loved began to speak.

“Hi gorgeous, it’s me. I can’t tell you how surprised I was to get your message last night. I know I’ve always maintained that it isn’t for me, but on reflection I’ve changed my mind. The answer is yes. I will marry you.”



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