New Writing
It was awful of him to come round here, to her cottage quite out of his way. He held his head at an angle and looked out of the window, while she hid her hands beneath the table. He seemed to be waiting for something, rather than at a loss what to say. She made brief sounds in her throat to fill the silence that was all they shared. He'd lost his easy touch. Maybe that's why he was here.
His camera lay on the table, a visual excuse for being in the countryside, but she knew it was blank like him. He wore yellow trousers that made her realise he was old. When he raised his strange mild face, he looked quite blind. He nodded at nothing in particular and stood up, and she felt his weight on the floorboards. She saw him to his car like a queen out walking with an ambassador. It was awful of him to come round here, to her cottage quite out of his way.
His camera lay on the table, a visual excuse for being in the countryside, but she knew it was blank like him. He wore yellow trousers that made her realise he was old. When he raised his strange mild face, he looked quite blind. He nodded at nothing in particular and stood up, and she felt his weight on the floorboards. She saw him to his car like a queen out walking with an ambassador. It was awful of him to come round here, to her cottage quite out of his way.