Tom stood silently, firm in the knowledge that no-one would need to use the telephone, for anyone who was anyone was already busy – ensconced in his Grandma’s living-room, for heaven-only-knows what reason, but surely not a good one.
His mind wandered aimlessly through the morass of recent events, tripping over too-neat coincidences, sinking in despair at conclusions to which all the signs pointed, though his intellect feigned illiteracy in the face of those signs. He leaned his head against the cool pane of glass, loth to leave his post until he’d seen something more conclusive than which members seemed to be partaking of the collective agreement to cover-up (or entirely fuck-up) this impossibly complicated portion of all their lives.
A movement flickered in the far periphery of his vision, and a shadow flitted ghost-like across a crooked wall, a night-time spirit cast in lamp-light and (now) suspicion.
Who the hell else was watching the house?
He opened the door and stepped outside the telephone box.
This chapter brought to you by the lovely Ivy Walker, of Uncharted, and this week’s prompt POST
Here’s to the continuation, and finding out WHAT HAPPENED NEXT! One more prompt to fulfil soon, and I’ll be asking more people to GIVE ME A CUE! Keep your eyes peeled…
…meantime, catch up with chapters you’ve missed over at Murder, We Wrote.