Page 11 - Sample Flip Builder Project

Asunder
By Eileen Herbert-Goodall

The man sat alone, nursing a drink, eyes shut against the night. The blast of a horn

disturbed the muted rumble of traffic rising from the street below; the sound declared

that it was time.

He placed down his glass, reached for the phone, and dialled home, even though he

knew his wife would be sleeping. Several elongated beeps travelled down his ear canal

before she answered.

'Hello.'

'It's me,' he said.

‘Jack? Is everything okay?’

He stared through the window of his hotel room. Across the road, a pulsating

fluorescent sign commiserated with the darkness; for reasons he couldn’t pinpoint, the

sight stitched a strand of sadness through his insides. 'I need to tell you something.'

'What’s wrong?'

He took a swig of whiskey. 'I’m not coming home.'

The words hung between them, reverberating in the quiet.

‘What do you mean?’