Only a night from old to new (for Carry on Tuesday)

The rain was running down the kitchen window like liquid threads unwinding from a heavenly spool. Behind this watery curtain a grey November morning started unfolding its dim light, hardly managing to brighten up the darkness of the previous night. The cup of coffee in her hands had gone cold while she had been losing herself in the rain and her thoughts. Like a deep sea diver she had to take a few minutes before surfacing from the depths and re-enter the world above water. She vaguely remembered her husband kissing her goodbye before hasting out of the door, like always in a rush with no time for breakfast and a client already waiting. No further mention of the conversation they’d had last night. For him no big deal, nothing left to say. In fact, “Grow up and stop being silly.” was all he had to say when she had finally opened up, released her deepest fears, hoping that he might save her, that together they might be able to change but that hope was now gone, drowned in the relentless rain of the night and her tears, that she had cried secretly after he had gone asleep. Now she just felt empty and washed out. She looked at the clock on the opposite wall, a horrible thing he had bought when they moved in, efficient and sterile like the kind they have in offices and hospitals, and realised that she was meant to be at work 5 minutes ago. Slowly she raised herself from the chair and went to the bathroom. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes looked tired and red but just behind their dead stare she could make out a faint glimmer of their old sparkle. She started running herself a bath and after a long soak she felt cleansed and renewed. Like dead skin cells she had scrubbed off all memory of this life and walked out the door.