An Empty House
There was no doubt. The TV had been left on.
And from the stormy sky grey filtered in through the shades. Had they forgotten to turn the electricity off at the pole? It was all uncertain. But one thing was sure - the comfort coming from the screen was something the Prime Minister could never have imagined.
He was soaking wet and had been for days when he came across the chandelier and prayer book. The interior of the house was warm and inviting. He felt the warmth from a fire. And that cup of tea and toast was surely meant for him.
Someone left the lid off the jar of strawberry jelly.
He slipped into some warm clothes and hung his up to dry. The Prime Minister lay down on the bed and slept all the while the sound of the voices on the TV echoed through the house.
He slept for a whole day and it was a voice climbing up the stairs that finally woke him. A voice so familiar it could have been his own.
From: The Blue Hour: flash fiction
Available on Amazon
https://www.amazon.com/Blue-Hour-flash-fiction-ebook/dp/B08FCWQZCY
Photo: Pixabay
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