An excerpt from the story entitled Fallen Crumbs that I mostly wrote in Brunei, recently polished and typed out:
“Her words continued, mere sounds which faded into air as soon as they were spoken, unheard over the shattering of that thin veneer of boldness. He managed a nod, his eyes averted from her almond gaze. He took a breath, but it was barely a gasp. His heart felt like it was being crushed by a dark, heavy weight. How foolish he had been! What had he been hoping for? The slate to be wiped clean? His guilt to be absolved? Indeed, yet here’s a spot – some things cannot be washed away. He remembered suddenly how her porcelain hands had trembled in his. Oh, how easily one can deceive oneself.
They walked now, in silence. He felt the meeting coming to an end, felt the load of those long years falling about his heart like a thick noxious fog, strangling and wrenching it like a noose, bring him back to those dark lonesome nights when he had lay in his bed gasping till sleep took him in its sweet embrace. A final rehearsed declaration rose in his throat; a last ditch effort to dispel the shadows, a glimmer of hope that could perhaps break through the fog just enough to allow him to breathe freely.”