Another failed entry to the "Flash Fiction" thing. The rules are very simple; The "story" has to be less than 150 words and feature a particular prompt word (which is the one in brackets).
FAR THINGS (brass)
FAR THINGS (brass)
She slammed the suitcase shut, clicked the
clasps pointedly, and, without catching his eye or saying a word, despite all
of the babbling and ranting that was coming her way, turned around and left the
room, pausing only briefly on the staircase to think about what they might once
both have hoped and dreamed of.
She flinched as she heard the single
footstep as he moved towards her, only breathing out again when she realised
that a policeman had stepped forward to bar his way.
As she passed through the front door into
this new and far simpler life, one which was currently flashing a vivid shade
of blue, he started shouting again, but the last words of his that she would
ever have to suffer in that house, “You won’t get a brass farthing from me, do
you hear?” were cut off by the soft click of the car door.
Freedom, she decided, was over-rated.
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