She shook off the morning fog. Ugh, happy new year then. She glanced to her left, well, that certainly isn’t new.
The congratulations rang in her ears. She couldn’t say that she wasn’t surprised, things had been building to this for a while, she hasn’t realised that the countdown would coincide with the clock ticking down to midnight though. She could have expected it, he wasn’t one to put too much thought into even the ‘big’ gestures. But she was happy.
She had thought things would have changed. But there had been eight new years, each the same, and each the same as the three previous, except she wasn’t a Mrs then.
They had taken the wrong track, she had thought she would have been equally happy with either. In the long run. One would have felt worse at the time, but she saw that would have passed. If only he’d been able to see the two choices, and been strong enough to take the other.
But he’d felt blinded and bound. As so often happens. And she could have taken them down the other path, she still could, and this would be the year. If only she didn’t feel it too.
Suddenly the importance of filling out that long-neglected biography has been escalated.
I'm a schoolgirl. I go to Broadlands Academy and I love it very much!!
On the river