January 8, 2012 § 4 Comments
It was a sort of modern Widow’s Walk, the architect had said, with a sardonic laugh. She returned his sour vibe by remarking;
“Is that a selling point, Martin? Good God.” She turned back to the view. Twin trees of patchy baldness and leafless arms were silhouetted by the sunset. It seemed desolate, yet beautiful. It was perfect.
“So?” Martin noticed her mouth settle into a prim line, like a cat with a mouse in its mouth. He suddenly did not want to be involved in this transaction and he grew tired.
“It will do. Just, but it will. It will do.” She strode purposefully across the floor, snapping on her prissy white gloves like a surgeon.
The sun went down.