J for Just a Little More: #atozchallenge Fiction

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Just a little more love, crooned David Guetta from the battered radio in the workshop, that’s all you need. She sat in the half light coming in from the bay window above the stairs, the lyrics slamming about in her head as she worked on the mannequin. The sky gloomed over the house, overcast, silent.

How had it come to this? Like her mother all those years ago who used to come and hug her on dark, rainy days, she was reduced to longing for a touch that would tell her she wasn’t alone. That this day that followed day held meaning, that the pricks of the needle on her fingers as she created one vintage dress after another were worth more than just the money required for their mortgage, or the fees for her daughter’s music lessons.

This is what he has brought me to, she muttered as Guetta kept crooning the same words over and over again, a cliched suburban wife looking for a ‘little more love’.

She imagined him in another part of town–her husband, beginning to grow bald, soften around the middle, poring over the accounts at his job, his glasses poised at the bridge of his nose.

Would I have married him had I known, she whispered under her breath, her hand picking up pace over the mannequin, that this is what it would come to?

She watched as the first drops of rain pelted the glass window, began to weep their way down and out of sight. I was always alone, even in his arms in those first days, right in the throes of my pleasure. 

She switched off the radio, walked up the stairs and sat herself on the bay window. I’m always alone–you’re each alone though you fall together, she told the raindrops. We’re all alone. The trick is to learn how not to be lonely. 

 She watched as it poured on the houses and trees across her street, hugging herself, rocking to and fro. Just a little more love won’t cut it.
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