Page 8 - Sample Flip Builder Project
P. 8
Anchorage
By Eileen Herbert-Goodall
The man sits alone, nursing a drink, eyes shut against the night. Far below, the inner-
city street crawls with vehicles. The blast of a horn disturbs the muted rumble of traffic
and he realises it’s time. Placing down his glass, the man reaches for the phone and
dials home, even though he suspects his wife will be sleeping. Several elongated beeps
travel down his ear canal before she answers.
‘Hello.’
‘It’s me,’ he says.
‘Jack? Is everything okay?’
He stares through the window of his hotel room; on the other side of the street, a
pulsating neon sign commiserates with the darkness. For reasons he can’t pinpoint, the
sight stitches a strand of sadness through his insides. ‘I need to tell you something.’
‘What is it?’
He takes a sip of whiskey. ‘I’m not coming home.’
The words hang between them, reverberating in the quiet.
‘I don’t understand—what do you mean?’
His wife’s voice hums with constraint. She has always strived to remain in control; even
her efforts to conceive a child entailed a string of calculations incorporating the finest
details, including her suspected time of ovulation and basal body temperature, so that
