1st Sentence: Monica sat on the blacked concrete stairs in front of the burned out shell that was once her home.
Monica sat on the blacked concrete stairs in front of the burned out shell that was once her home. Everyone had left, the party over. Firemen, hoses, gawkers and weepers. The ambulance came and carried away, strapped down, covered remains. She stayed, twisting her ashen hair in both her hands, while the wisps of what was left of her nightgown blew in the breeze of the night.
No one approached her. She could see Mrs. Fine across the street, looking out of her bay window, staring while she hugged herself. Matt from down the street was walking his dog, looking now and again at the mess that was left. Otherwise, everything had settled down.
There were no tears left in her to shed. She’d cried and cried and screamed her tears out of her head…and she sat there in the shock of the night, alone on the black concrete, the remaining shell of the house creaking in the wind, swaying in rhythm with the wisps of her nightgown.
Monica didn’t look back at the house, but she knew that all traces of their life was gone. No one would know, or understand, what went on back in that house. David and Monica. Private David and Monica. The house creaked, and a piece of leftover wall framing fell inward. Monica cringed. Monica smiled.
Mrs. Fine saw the piece fall. She went back to watch the TV with her husband. After all, there was nothing else to see.