of stairs, Kerry cried hysterically about Steve vomiting, how he had toppled over the railings, and how she’d been unable to help him. In the car park, as they waited for the police to arrive, friends comforted Wendy, Ian put his arms around Kerry and held her close, and Dave spread the towel he’d snatched from the replica Michelangelo’s David over Steve’s body. Gradually, the hum of reassurances faded and the pulse of sobbing slowed to nothing. The party-goers hovered noiselessly in the darkness, desperately wanting to leave, but waiting for permission to be granted.
One person, however, felt exhilarated by the freshness of the harbour breeze, intoxicated by the moon and the stars, and the blissfulness of unexpected peace.
Dave slowly shook his head at his estranged wife, dazed and unbelieving.
“The party’s over,” she sang softly, nestling into her companion’s arms.
Dear Reader,
Thank you for reading my short story. If you enjoyed it, won’t you please take a moment to leave me a review at your favourite retailer and, perhaps, send a link to your friends? I hope you may also enjoy some of my other short stories and first novel.
Myfanwy Tilley.
Short Stories:
Sons of Adam
The License
The Cockroach
Full Length Fiction:
Psyche’s Garden
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