“I control you … You’re mine to do as I like. You move when I kick you. When I squeeze your throat, you speak!”
Eyes wide, slate blue and sleeked back black hair, his face contorts in a snarl.
All around, the busy market place bustles with safe people, happy people, busy people.
A scruffy, yellow VW camper-van covered with hastily painted flowers roars by nearly catching his elbow.
He whirls around as it disappears into the traffic and yells. “Up yours!”
—————————————————————–
“I can’t understand why you watch all these TV soaps, Amelia,” I say.
“They’re harsh, violent and just plain unpleasant.”
She doesn't even turn her head but gestures with her hand for my silence.
Slowly. I climb upstairs to my home office, turn on my computer and start to type … Eventually, serenity and happiness returns.
The End
Copyright Rob Hopcott 2008. All characters in this and other flash fiction or very short stories on this site are fictitious and no reference is intended to any person living or otherwise.
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