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Literature Text
You said you wanted to talk. Call me.
The blond man, whose name I can’t remember for the life of me, rolled over in his sleep. I peered up from my phone’s screen to catch a glimpse of his delectable ass, the bed sheets half placed on his sleeping body. The phone vibrated in my hands, indicating I had received another text message.
Kat, please. You haven’t come home all night and it’s 8:30am. I don’t want us to argue anymore – we can solve this. I love you.
My heart shattered deep within at the last sentence – not because he still loved me despite the huge row we had last night, but I went behind his back and slept with another man. If I revealed the truth to him he’d want a divorce straight away.
He mustn’t know.
I crashed over a friend’s house, Greg. I’ll call you later on.
The blond man, whose name I can’t remember for the life of me, rolled over in his sleep. I peered up from my phone’s screen to catch a glimpse of his delectable ass, the bed sheets half placed on his sleeping body. The phone vibrated in my hands, indicating I had received another text message.
Kat, please. You haven’t come home all night and it’s 8:30am. I don’t want us to argue anymore – we can solve this. I love you.
My heart shattered deep within at the last sentence – not because he still loved me despite the huge row we had last night, but I went behind his back and slept with another man. If I revealed the truth to him he’d want a divorce straight away.
He mustn’t know.
I crashed over a friend’s house, Greg. I’ll call you later on.
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Great work! Sometimes in art and literature, less is more and impliying things rather than show it makes the reader develop her own imagination.