PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
The skirting board is hairy with fluff, carpet and towel fibres mixed to make a grubby flesh tone. One of the tiles is lifting, flashing dingy grout.
So intimate this space. An important room.
Bill and I found out we were expecting Sally here, hunched over a strip of plastic, waiting for that blue line.
And here we first realised something was wrong with Bill. Those terrifying splashes of red, the first of many.
Now I’m lying on the floor and I can’t move. The pain in my head’s easing though, growing softer at the edges.
Bill? Hold my hand.