Behind her eyes harlan coben5/19/2023 ![]() “I’ve cooked dinner,” I say, trying not to sound too needy. I take a deep breath and join him, flinching at each of the hard beats of my heels against the floorboards. My stomach twists, wringing fresh nerves out as the front door shuts, and for a moment we just look at each other from opposite ends of the long corridor of our new Victorian house, a tract of perfectly polished wood between us, before he turns, swaying slightly, toward the sitting room. ![]() I can feel it stinging against my raw skin, deep under the beds. There’s still mud under my fingernails when David finally comes home. He walked in silence toward the remains of the house in the distance. He let out a long breath and it felt surprisingly good. ![]() The woods were just the woods, and the dirt was just the dirt. He expected the hues of the world to change to reflect that, but the earth and heavens remained the same muted shades, and there was no tremble of anger from the trees. An ending and a beginning now knotted up forever. A thing had been done that could not be undone. ![]() Dry leaves and mud clung to his jeans, and his weak body ached as his sweat cooled in the damp, chill air. A streaky gray wash across the canvas of sky. ![]() It was nearly light when it was finally done. Look at clock (or watch), look away, look back. Pinch myself and say I AM AWAKE once an hour. ![]()
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