Guest Post by George Davis 

The pond has their attention until the waitress arrives with coffee and sandwiches on a tray. She places the meal on the table then leaves.

“You went away,” Jillian says. “Remember that?”

“I told you it wasn’t my doing,” Maurice says.

“What was I suppose to do?”

“Wait for me that’s all.”

“I did wait.”

“Not for long,” he grumbles.

“I had no idea when you’d be back.”

“I told you when I left how long I might be gone.”                                                                     

“Yes you did, then when that past, I thought you were dead.”

“Bull, you would’ve gotten a notice.”

“I didn’t know what was happening; I was scared.”

“Why did you go to him?” He asks filter through disdain.

“I wanted to know where you were, if you were safe or not.”

“He couldn’t tell you. I told you that before.”

“I didn’t think and I thought he could help,” she defends herself.

“Not to find me that’s for sure.”

“Stop it,” she says.

“No, I’m not going to stop it.”

“Please, it wasn’t nothing like that; he became a shoulder to lean on.”

Maurice glances out at the pond. The alligator gets his attention, stalking the two ducks on the bank of the pond. They seems to be not sure if their instinct is right or wrong about an approaching danger. The alligator turns to leave one of the ducks or both to live another day.

“Maybe he wasn’t hungry,” he mumbles.


Maurice stands. He fumbles in a pants pocket and drops a twenty-dollar bill from the fold of bills on the table. “I wish you both a long good life together rotting in hell,” he tells her. 

“Please don’t be that way,” she says.

He walks away. END 

George A. Davis born in Philadelphia PA (presently resides in Tampa FL): studied creative writing at The Community College of Philadelphia, retired Federal government employee, and presently write stories.


Posted on September 13, 2012, in Short Stories. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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