Continued from May 24, 2018
#AmWriting #Fiction #IndieAuthor
The clock chimed on the mantel, letting Marcus know it was, once again, time to get ready to go.
He set the picture down, rose from the chair, and hobbled his way upstairs to his room.
The crochet blanket Gail had made years ago was still set neatly across the bed. Her vanity still sat on her side of the bed, neatly arranged with her brush, hand mirror, and the only bottle of perfume she had ever owned, but never used. Marcus could almost see her sitting there, humming as she gently brushed her hair.
He closed his eyes as his heart gave a sad, hollow, series of thumps.
“I know…” he muttered, rubbing his chest.
He turned to the closet, sliding the door open and rifled through the hanging clothes for the suit he needed.
The old black suit was still in the garment bag, as Gail had reminded him that moths would eat it if he didn’t properly store it. Even the mustiness of the closet hadn’t gotten through the bag so the suit smelled like the dryer sheet Gail had stashed in its pocket.
He put the suit on with some difficulty, not being as limber as he had been the last time he had worn it. A quick glance in the mirror to make sure he looked alright and he made his way down the stairs and outside to his car.