At First it Feels Like Hunger
Elaine’s brother Dennis arrives with his girlfriend that Friday evening, the headlights of the car tunneling through a crystal-cold night and stopping near the house at a little past ten. Elaine and her mother have stayed up to meet them, as it’s the first time he’s brought Sarah home. Sarah. Elaine loved the name from the moment Dennis told them about her. In the days leading up to their arrival it was all she could think about; she repeated the name over and over to herself and imagined a woman of intelligence and beauty, a figure sitting alone in a garden, aristocratic features heightened in the evening light.
Elaine presses her head to the window to get a closer look at the car that now sits quiet and dark in the drive, the whole scene obscured by her breath that pulses on the pane in front of her. She wipes the window clean with the heel of her hand and is able to make out a light coming on in the car as a door is opened. The motion of her hand on the window produces a delicate honk that causes her mother to look up from the kitchen table.
Read the rest of the story on carte blanche.
posted by Maria Schamis Turner @ 7:06 PM
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