Moving the Mountain: A Short Story
By Aron White
Copyright 2011 by Aron White
Published by Morning Paradise Press
Cover Image Copyright by Stuart Miles, Dreamstime.com
Check out Aron's website for more stories at http://www.aronwhite.com
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Moving the Mountain
God, I swear just one more time and I’ll be gone for good.
Molly closed her eyes, knowing her words were already being filed away into some distant drawer reserved for empty promises. The smell of cigarettes drifted towards her from the next room while a television announcer reported the football score. Molly rolled her fingers into clenched fists as her thoughts drifted backwards.
*
“I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” He buried his face in her waist while she lay in bed, his tears drenching her white hospital gown. Molly put her usable hand on top of his hair and stroked it while the opposite arm rested in a sling, clinging to her like a frightened child. He looked up at her, his face red and wet. “I…I…I’ll get help,” he stammered and it took all of Molly’s strength to smile as her bruised face seared with pain. Inhaling, she smelled the demon on his breath that placed her in this bed the night before. He put his head back on her stomach and continued to sob, wrapping his hand around hers, massaging her palm with his fingertips and despite her intuition, despite her experience, Molly allowed herself to fall for the charade once more.