Whispering in Corners

Richie sat in his car across the road from the chip shop over which Kylie had her flat. He could see the window of the living room was open at the top. The net curtain was blowing in the breeze. He knew what was behind that curtain; the dull cream walls and drab brown carpet. She had done her best with what she had—the oblong coffee table with ring marks from long finished mugs of coffee. The square glass coasters sitting on it were Kylie's attempt at saving the rest of the table. He remembered that she had polished it at a recent time with lavender beeswax polish, the smell competing with old chip fat and damp walls.

Richie pulled his phone out and stared at all the messages Kylie had sent him. Her happiness and excitement were so apparent in everything she had written to him. He had no idea why he had asked that stupid question. She had no idea about that fucking letter, and he was just a fuc