Page 29

Alun Evans

T

hey had emptied all their belongings into the middle of the floor and were sat back down on the room’s only couch, staring

at them. The mound had reached the ceiling and looked like it could collapse at any moment. David knew this was the end. He looked at Sarah, over at the other end of the couch, and could see her lips moving. She was making some kind of inventory and he stayed quiet, not wanting to disturb her. In the silence he scratched at his Adam’s apple, feeling the rough stubble’s gradual transition into downy fur as his hand moved further down his throat. When her lips had stopped moving, Sarah turned to him and smiled. “Thirty-three,” she said. David shook his head, meaning he didn’t know what the number meant, what his wife had decided to talk about in these final moments. “Odd socks,” she said. “I count thirty-three of them. And that’s just ÉCLAT FICTION

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MAY 2012

Profile for Eclat Fiction

Éclat Fiction - Issue 3  

The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com

Éclat Fiction - Issue 3  

The third issue of Éclat Fiction (an online short story anthology). www.eclatfiction.com

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