Jane Jago’s Daily Drabble – One Hundred and Forty-Six

The sky dripped miserable, halfhearted sort of rain, and as we walked home from the bus stop wet fog rolled in from the river. 

The children were cold and sad, and I had gone beyond sorrow as we trudged the streaming pavements.

We turned into the terrace. At least home was in sight. 

There was a bulky, dark figure on the doorstep. I  blinked. Didn’t trust my eyes, but the kids ran pellmell shouting.

“Daddy. Daddy.”

I found myself running too.

“I thought you weren’t coming home.”

His eyes looked hunted. 

I thought ‘f**k it’ and held out my arms.

©️jj 2019

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