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Essay Archive - Creative Writing: A Sunday
Creative Writing: A Sunday
The leaving was easier than she thought.
All those nights practising it in her head. Just wanted to look at the gardens,
so pretty in the spring. Just wanted to see the gardens. Except in the end
nobody asked. She simply put on the good blue dress, combed her hair and walked
down the corridors, taking care over those polished tiles, and pushed out
through the heavy double doors.
Outside. Out through the garden. Trying not to run but wanting to. Outside. Out
through the gates and here she is walking along the footpath looking at the
daffodils. Just like anybody else.
She breathes in the air. Sniffs it. ....
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