No Strings Attached

Eleventh Hour Fiction

No Strings Attached by Tiffany Greenfield

No matter how many years passed, he would occasionally turn up.  The phone rang once sometime after midnight and she heard the screen door creaking before dawn.  She rolled over and kept sleeping, he wasn’t going anywhere.  When she woke up, she knew he was in the bedroom off the back porch,  the telltale signs that he had arrived were all around; a pile of change on the counter with a couple of guitar picks, worn boots and his brown jacket that had seen better days.  She started the coffee, picked up Kat who was sitting on the counter looking out the kitchen window, walked back to what she considered his room and stared at him, sound asleep.

It was by chance that they had met in an alley near Yesler Street.  It was the first dry night after a month of Seattle rain and she couldn’t help but wander…

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