Short opening to longer story.
Sunday Morning
She is restless.
The rain beats against the window and Fidget weaves between her feet. She doesn't notice the heat from the mug slowly disappearing as she carefully cradles it in her hands.
She can't settle to anything this morning. Not a book, not the ironing, not the hundred and one things she needs to do.
And so she stares out of the window at the rain but she doesn't see the torrent streaming from the gutter, nor next door's cat sheltering beneath the awning by the bins.
All she sees is Harry holding a naked Beth.