Free Write...It worked but maybe just

 This Tuesday's Free Write by my husband and me came from a book. "It worked, but maybe just."

The village bakery/tea room where we were writing was out of cinnamon muffins, but the almond croissant was good and the tea was hot. Outside snow was falling softly. 

Our Free Write's are to write a flash fiction piece in 10 minutes.

Rick's Free Write

When Garrett arrived in the village after a 14-hour voyage from the States, her perfectly tidy sanctuary was but thrown into chaos. Barely enough room for one person, the studio was not prepared for two large suitcases, a backpack and golf clubs.

Annie cringed even after Garrett dropped all his worldly possessions on the only open floor space. Exhausted but hungry, he suggested that they find a restaurant, but it was Sunday and they were all closed. 

"I've made you something," she said. But as she was warming the soup on the stove tucked into a corner, Garrett had sat on the click clack and fallen asleep.

Annie locked around her no longer tidy apartment and at the man she loved  who had come back into her life after more than 20 years. 

It worked, she decided but maybe just. In the morning she would go to the immoblier and find them a larger place to live.

D-L's Free Write

Justine thought it would work. She'd told Seth of their social engagements for the next month. Her goodbye hug and kiss as he left for his business trip to New York was as loving as possible.

On the way to the car, he had turned and blown a kiss. He had no idea that it really was goodbye.

A pickup trip pulled into their empty garage. Billy, a student in her history class, jumped out.

Had she done everything necessary to escape? Yesterday. she had closed out her secret bank account and taken $5,832.76 in cash.

There were no suitcases packed, although there was a garbage bag of summer clothes that could be mistaken for storage.

"What's going?" Billy asked.

She pointed to her grandmother's chest of drawers, a duvet, her laptop and a quilt that her mother had made.

As the truck pulled out of the driveway, her husband's car came up the street. Had he forgotten something?

Justine couldn't stop now. Never again would she have to hide her bruises.