Don't really know where this was going. You finish it.
Saturday - No one apart from Sarah was around to appreciate Rob’s skilful manoeuvring of the van into the tight space. The street was lunchtime empty. Rob turned off the ignition, sat back and looked across at Sarah. “Well, here we are. Two-bed terrace, unfurnished except for dining set, available immediately. Home, on a six-month contract, with a brand new bed arriving in about an hour.”
Sarah jumped down from the van as Rob rummaged through the brown envelope for the door key. "Here you are," he said, throwing it to her. "After you."
Sarah fumbled with the lock and almost fell through the door when it finally clicked. "Wow, I'd forgotten quite how unfurnished it is. Good job your parents gave us that rug and their old sofa. But isn't it lovely! And what's that smell?"
"Smells like baking," replied Rob, lumbering in the door with an enormous box labelled 'towels, sheets, wine glasses'. "Where do you want these?"
"Shall we just put everything in here for now? But let's have an explore before we unload."
*****
Monday - “I told you, I’ve not touched your damn coat. Why can’t you ever put things back where they belong?”
“Christ, I only asked. You’ve done nothing but argue all week, ever since we moved in.”
“I’ve done nothing but argue? That’s rich. I can barely open my mouth without you snapping at me.”
“I’m late for work. I’m going. Bye.”
“Fine.”
Rob slammed the door and stamped off towards the bus stop. Sarah picked up the jobs section of the local paper, stared at it as if hoping something for her would magically appear, threw it down and dropped onto the sofa, glaring at her cup of cold coffee, then gave it all up and went back to bed.
*****
Wednesday - Sarah woke with a groan, her body aching from the hard floorboards. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she went downstairs and put the kettle on, wondering idly as she turned to put the milk away where exactly she’d picked it up from, putting down her confusion to not having had her morning caffeine fix, sitting down at the dining table with the dog-eared jobs section.
*****
Thursday - With the sunset, all the heat had gone out of the day. Shivering, Sarah strode from room to room of the icy house, drawing the curtains tight against the cold, before settling down on the sofa to read. When her eyes would stay open no longer, she put down the book and went upstairs, wrapping the duvet tight around her and turning on Radio 4 to lull herself to sleep. It always worked and she drifted away long before the Shipping Forecast sent its comforting gibberish out across the sodden seas.
*****
Saturday - By the time the sun, streaming in through the window, brought her back to the world, Sarah was refreshed and ready for the day. Shaking herself dry from the shower, she went downstairs and poured a glass of water. She poked he hear into the empty living room before returning to the dining table, laying her head against its comforting, sun-warm surface.
*****
Sunday - Sarah woke, uncurled from the dining table, drank from the tap. She paced through the house, with a sense that she was looking for something, but she couldn’t remember what. It was very tiring, so she sat down again.
*****
Tuesday - A voice came faintly through the double glazing. "Well, here we are. Two-bed terrace, unfurnished except for dining set, available immediately. I think you'll like it, just the right size for the two of you. And there's warmed-over leftover Gordon’s classic lasagne al forno for tea."
Sarah jumped down from the van as Rob rummaged through the brown envelope for the door key. "Here you are," he said, throwing it to her. "After you."
Sarah fumbled with the lock and almost fell through the door when it finally clicked. "Wow, I'd forgotten quite how unfurnished it is. Good job your parents gave us that rug and their old sofa. But isn't it lovely! And what's that smell?"
"Smells like baking," replied Rob, lumbering in the door with an enormous box labelled 'towels, sheets, wine glasses'. "Where do you want these?"
"Shall we just put everything in here for now? But let's have an explore before we unload."
*****
Monday - “I told you, I’ve not touched your damn coat. Why can’t you ever put things back where they belong?”
“Christ, I only asked. You’ve done nothing but argue all week, ever since we moved in.”
“I’ve done nothing but argue? That’s rich. I can barely open my mouth without you snapping at me.”
“I’m late for work. I’m going. Bye.”
“Fine.”
Rob slammed the door and stamped off towards the bus stop. Sarah picked up the jobs section of the local paper, stared at it as if hoping something for her would magically appear, threw it down and dropped onto the sofa, glaring at her cup of cold coffee, then gave it all up and went back to bed.
*****
Wednesday - Sarah woke with a groan, her body aching from the hard floorboards. Shaking her head to clear the cobwebs, she went downstairs and put the kettle on, wondering idly as she turned to put the milk away where exactly she’d picked it up from, putting down her confusion to not having had her morning caffeine fix, sitting down at the dining table with the dog-eared jobs section.
*****
Thursday - With the sunset, all the heat had gone out of the day. Shivering, Sarah strode from room to room of the icy house, drawing the curtains tight against the cold, before settling down on the sofa to read. When her eyes would stay open no longer, she put down the book and went upstairs, wrapping the duvet tight around her and turning on Radio 4 to lull herself to sleep. It always worked and she drifted away long before the Shipping Forecast sent its comforting gibberish out across the sodden seas.
*****
Saturday - By the time the sun, streaming in through the window, brought her back to the world, Sarah was refreshed and ready for the day. Shaking herself dry from the shower, she went downstairs and poured a glass of water. She poked he hear into the empty living room before returning to the dining table, laying her head against its comforting, sun-warm surface.
*****
Sunday - Sarah woke, uncurled from the dining table, drank from the tap. She paced through the house, with a sense that she was looking for something, but she couldn’t remember what. It was very tiring, so she sat down again.
*****
Tuesday - A voice came faintly through the double glazing. "Well, here we are. Two-bed terrace, unfurnished except for dining set, available immediately. I think you'll like it, just the right size for the two of you. And there's warmed-over leftover Gordon’s classic lasagne al forno for tea."
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