Angst/Mystery
Complete one-shot. Sarah starts cracking. Extended from the Winter drabble I did a while back, as could not fit all I wanted into such a short space. Not really a new story, so I've just tacked it on the end here. Bit weird, to say the least. I've read this carefully, and am fairly sure there are no typos.
Helping Hands
She awoke with Kyle's strong arms wrapped around her. She lay for a while breathing in his musky scent, but as the light from the thin curtains invaded the room and lifted the veil of drowsy sleep from her eyes, his arms melted back into her dreams. She tried to cling onto him, but all her hands clutched were the sweat soaked sheets that lay twisted against her skin. Her fantasies, filled with the memories of passion, faded into the solitude of the day.
The waiting room had been crawling with infants around her feet. The doctor had listened to her. At least, to start with. "You are tired and emotional. It is to be expected with your condition." He had said. "Rest and eat more. You will need your strength later."
"The things I see, I feel. Are they there?" She had asked. But the only reply she got now was the tick-tock from the clock on the wall. Below it sat the refrigerator, it's belly swollen with uneaten food.
She had laid places at the table for her family. But no one ate there any more. Four forks, four spoons, and four plates. "All present and correct. Sir!" Barked the bottle of syrup, with a crisp snappy salute.
The thudding of her hearts became the pounding of feet on the stairs. Her child, no, the children stood at the door. But the acrid smell of burning from the pan drove them away, and they left in a conspiracy of whispered laughter. She looked at their fleeing backs, and in that moment saw her future. She lay her head in her hands, and her sorrow drew tears from her eyes, like the leaves from an autumn tree, pulled away by the first frosts of a cold dark winter.