for the Ragdag Daily Prompt where Christine has provided today’s word, Unoccupied.
He climbed stairs to her apartment clutching a bouquet of roses, red roses. In his pocket, a small velvet box. He let himself in.
‘Hi honey’ he shouted.
No reply, silence. But she was expecting him, surely. He came round every Tuesday evening.
The bedroom door was ajar. Why? .She always insisted on keeping it closed. . It creaked as he nervously pushed it open. .Something didn’t seem right.
Everything was gone. Robe doors gaping, her garments vanished. Yawning drawers, empty. Her precious diary was missing from her bedside cabinet. The dressing table lay bare, the pots and bottles of colours and smells gone. He bent down to breath in a little of her fragrance. For a second he thought he saw her, just there, sitting on the bed. He smiled, wiped away a tear and she was gone.
His phone rattled and bleeped. ‘New message’ it said on the screen. Fumbling with the buttons, his heart pounding, he stared at the message. ‘Sorry’ it said. Just one word, ‘Sorry’. He pressed reply and typed a single word back. ‘Why?’
He stood trembling, the phone clutched in his shaking hand. It burst back into life. A new message. ‘Sorry’ it said, just one word …