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The Closed Door

Rudyard Fearon


He burst in the room —
not looking at us.
Feet shuffled.
I hurried over to him —
fake smile in place.
"How's life treating you, Jack?"
The music stopped.
Feet shuffled out.
"She's not here, Jack!"
I edged between him
and the closed door.
"Honest...she's not."
Silence.

The closed door.



Rudyard Fearon's works copyright © to the author.


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