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Kenny had his hands around her ankle and began pulling her from the bed. A small lamp on the dresser was the only light in the room and he stood over her in his Superman T-shirt and pajama bottoms. It was winter and a portable radiant heater in the middle of the room gave off little warmth, and his breath came out in small disappearing clouds.
Lynette woke suddenly and looked at the clock on the nightstand: three a.m. "I'm getting fifteen more minutes so please don't touch me or say anything until then." She was thirty-years old and got out of bed in ten-year-old sweats and wool socks, shut off the light on the dresser, and got back under the covers.
In the darkness his breathing grew louder.
What do you think? This is supposed to be a bit of a darker grittier story which will be published today.
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