It was a damn shame, how it was pouring rain outside, and she was stuck in just looking at her wellington boots.
She couldn't move, was completely immobile, frozen. Her body was scrunched up into a corner of the living room. Soft carpet beneath her toes, cool wall behind her back. Her knees drawn up to her chest, and a tissue clutched in her right hand. Beside her, on the grey fluffy carpet, lay the phone off the hook.
Her cheeks were mottled with the remnants of tears.
A damn shame. She loved the rain.
Loved walking out in it, holding out her hands, feeling the drops slipping between her fingers.
Loved the split-splatting of her boots against the pavement, the schluck-luck under her soles when she crossed the muddy grass.
Tonight she stayed in though, pressing her shoulder-blades into the corner of the room, her toes into the carpet, as if the whole room would fall in if she wasn't there to keep it up.
Slowly she replaced the receiver and the drone of the dial-tone ceased with a click.
It was dark outside now, and through the open window she could hear the sound of wet traffic. The room was dark too; she hadn’t turned on any lights.
Inside her chest it felt as though an injured bird perched, wobbly and unsure.
Still the phone lay beside her, quiet and dark now.
The street lamps outside the window sent patches of orange light into the room. One small diagonal lay over part of her left foot. She examined it, moving her toes. She felt small, and yet somehow more connected to the world.
She took in a deep breath, and leaned forward a little bit.
The room did not collapse.