Clara Read Novels & Stories

--- Clara arrived at 10:00 AM. She was small and pale, with dark circles under her eyes that spoke of sleepless nights and a way of holding herself that made her look like she was bracing for impact, like she expected the world to hurt her at any moment. She wore a simple dress and worn-out shoes, her hands clasped in her lap as she sat in the chair across from Eleanor. "Hi," Clara said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Hello," Eleanor said, matching her tone. "I'm Eleanor."

she said. “Mother-in-law.” We sat. The waiter came. We both ordered water. Menus were glanced at, then ignored. This wasn’t a meal. We both knew it. Clara set her handbag down with deliberate care and folded her hands on the table. Her eyes held mine with the steady, unflinching focus of a woman who had spent decades reading people and had grown ruthlessly good at it. “I’m going to say some things I should have said long ago,” she began, her voice low but steady. “I’d like to get through them before you respond. Is that all right?”

“I left my charger here yesterday, I’m completely lost without it. Don’t get up.” “You’re fine,” Alexander said. “What are we talking about? You both look so serious.” “Clara wants to call a clinic,” he said. “Another consultation.” And here is the part I will never forget. Elara didn’t ask what clinic. She didn’t ask which specialist. She didn’t say oh, that’s interesting, tell me more. She said, “Oh, sweetie, no. Remember last time? It cost a fortune and they said the damage was too extensive and you cried for a week.”

She knows how to cook Jonathan's food. Because the way to a man's heart is through his stomach. "Does he like cappuccino?" Clara was talking to herself. From now on, Clara starts to learn how to make wonderful food for him. Although she has no talent and culinary skills, she will try her best. Clara smiled until her eyes narrowed. Even though she hadn't implemented her plan yet, she thought of victory. She would quickly retrieve the Marbles from Jonathan and return home. She wanted the magic back. She was tired of being a normal human.

I watched her eyes move across the face of the medal the way eyes move when they are reading something and simultaneously trying to understand what the reading means, the two processes running alongside each other and occasionally getting in each other's way. "And if after seeing that you still want to remain inside your own version of events," I said, "then just leave me alone. That's all I'm asking. Leave me alone and let me get on with my evening." I made to take the medal back. Clara's hand came up and closed around it before I could withdraw it. She held it up and turned it toward the light and her lips moved slightly as she read, the way people's lips sometimes move when the thing they

Clara clasped her hands to her cheeks, lost in the daydream. "Sunset! Waves! Lisa, my spirit's with you—go get him!" I propped my chin in my hand, my gaze drifting over Clara's excited face. "Well," I said, my voice low and deliberate, "That depends if the saint's ready to have his scripture reinterpreted." Clara's eyes lit up with glee. She grinned and shot me a thumbs-up. "Now you're talking! I'm here for the rewrite!" With that, she zoomed back to her desk.

" I pin her with a look that says otherwise. Clara stops her fingers from tapping against her desk, a sound that had done a brilliant job at sinking into the tension. Finally, she blows out a breath and rises to her feet. She walks over to where the shelf is standing and gently drags her fingers over the spines of the books lined up, stopping at what I assume is an original of moby dick. She tips it out of its cosy little nook, and a faint unlocking sound breezes through the air as a section of the shelf falls open, revealing a safe. Clara inputs the code and uncaps it. I'm barely able to make out what and what is inside due to her frame covering most of the view but what I do make out is th

She looked like a hostess greeting late arrivals. “An early evening,” she observed, her voice smooth as the marble under our feet. Her gaze swept over Maya, taking in the designer blouse, the smudged mascara under her eyes. Then it landed on me, my own desperation no doubt written plainly on my face. “I trust it was illuminating.” I moved without thinking, stepping slightly in front of Maya, a feeble attempt at a shield. “It’s over.” “On the contrary.” Clara took a slow sip, her eyes glinting with a cold, intellectual interest. “It’s just become far more interesting.” She shifted her focus back to Maya, dismissing me. “Maya, you may go. Leo is asleep. Uninterrupted.”

Arya texted Clara. Clara: already ateeee. But if I'm hungry at 2 am, I'm knocking on your door. Arya: I'd kill you if I'm asleep already and you're the one to wake me. Clara: we both know you won't. She sighed, put her phone down and then proceeded to keep the things in the fridge. She didn't feel hungry. She went back to the living room, turned on the TV— but still, she grabbed the book she was reading the previous night. The TV was just for background noise.