Issue 7 – Fiction

The man and the woman looked out of the window together. They watched the rain dance on the glass then slide down in jagged little serpentines until it collected in shallow pools along the brick ledge outside.

His young wife rolled him in to the clinic room on a motorized wheelchair. Review of records indicated that he was here for a follow up after a prolonged hospitalization for cardiac arrest.

It was December and snow was falling on the parking lot. Big lights, to ward off carjackers and muggers, made the white ground twinkle. A line of snow-covered cars slumbered.

“There you are,” he says each morning. He seems amazed she is still there.

“Here I am,” she smiles back.

It was a blustery day in November. The wind whipped across the front steps of Avon Road as I made my way towards the front door of my house. I’d walked in chilled to the bone.