The phony smile remained fixed throughout the evening as she stationed herself near the french doors with a view of Lake Michigan and the grandfather clock across the room.  Each chime of the clock corresponded with a tightening grip on her wine glass, which seemed moments away from shattering.  The endless glass of Merlot and distant sound of waves crashing against the shore were the only two things keeping the phony facade in place.  The beautiful sight of the sunset could not stop the tide of smoldering anger churning through her body as each shrill laugh and conversation of feigned interest echoed off the walls and the glow from the windows cast the annual guests into shadowy strangers.

2 Replies to “Smoldering”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

%d bloggers like this: