She climbs gingerly out of bed. Feet touching the scruffy mat. Standing she shakes the last of sleep from her head and moves to feel the state of her body. ah.. not too much pain today.
The bruises are there but nothing seems broken. Tiptoeing so as not to wake him she slides out of the room and moves to the kitchen.
The kettle begins to sing. Time for tea – time for free….. time to be me.. she pours the tea and adds the drops – just 4 drops enough – “nice tea dear here’s your tea..nice tea.”
With acknowledgement to Dylan Thomas “Under Milkwood” the recited version a favourite of mine when I was young!
This snippet was a writing challenge.. tell a story in 100 words – from the Love to Read Local Flash Fiction Competition.