Fifty. Not 49 nor 51.

The noise was something that I hadn’t heard before. A whirring, droning noise. I wasn’t sitting in the dentist’s chair nor was I in an industrial area. My children were laying next to me fast asleep, blissfully unaware of the noise. My husband was sanding their bedroom, preparing to paint it.



27 thoughts on “Fifty. Not 49 nor 51.

    • Wow, what a piece you have written. So easy to get drawn into it, I wanted to keep reading, I needed to know what happened next. My heart was in my throat.

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