Sunday Scribblings: Late

A little something for an interesting Sunday Scribblings prompt, in 100 words. Yep, that’s a Drabble.

Late
The word hung in his head, stayed on the lips, a bitter bile.
Collar up against the wind, it echoed in his ears.
Over pizza - she’d let him pick the toppings - and a cold bottle of Chardonnay (which she mysteriously declined), she’d said it.
“I’m late.”
(And in saying so bit her lower lip until it turned pale white.)
Confused, he said something about the pizza delivery.
“Late, Donny. I’m pregnant.”
A coolness spread within him; he’d (luckily) declined to ask her if it was his. He downed the wine, got his coat, went for the door.
“I need air.”

6 comments:

Tumblewords: said...

Arghhh. Doesn't this happen... Nice drabble piece...

Jules said...

Is it his??? How typical! *winks*

I want to know what happened. *grinz*


~Jules
http://casadejules.net/quepasa/?p=306

alister said...

A coolness spread within him...
Ooooh, classic! And the first two sentences, a string of miseries, music to my ears that listen for combinations, food, for the soul, cooked just right :-)

missalister

quin browne said...

the words (contained) are as telling as the words without.

floreta said...

i love the tension here.

Pretty Me!! said...

i wish it cud end more happily :)
but i just loved the way you created this scene !!