literature

Where Were You Last Night?

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Literature Text

“Where were you last night?” He continued to stare at his hands, at the dirt under his fingernails. “Michael, answer me… Please…” The wobble in her voice, it broke his heart.

He finally met her eyes. She was crying, tears leaving glistening trails on her rosy cheeks. God, how he loved her. How could he have possibly done this to her?

“I-I don’t remember…” the man answered shakily, stupidly, nervously shifting a little on the loveseat.

She didn’t believe it, not for a second. The guilt in his dull gray eyes said it all.

He could tell she wasn’t buying it. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, looking down at his hands once more to watch them tremble in fear.

She sighed, a heavy, heartbroken sigh. “…Who was she?”

“I can’t… Please, don’t be angry. I’m sorry…” he pleaded again. Pitiful, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. Couldn’t tell her about the shovel in the trunk, the papery, whispering voices in his head.

She cleared her throat. Had she said something?

“No, I’m sorry Michael. I can’t take it.” She bit her lip, wanting to see him hurt. There was no reaction.

Suddenly, the pent up rage, despair, sorrow, love… It all came bursting out and she sobbed, turning away with her face buried in her hands as she retreated to her bedroom. Hers, hadn’t been his for a while.

His chest slowly rose and fell with a deep breath. His muscles unclenched slightly as tension faded. Good. Better to let her believe it was all just an affair.
A begin with a given line exercise. Don't ask me what his secret is, because that's up to you to imagine :D
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