The Visitor

The state of her body and heart had deteriorated to its lowest level by the time she staggered into the living room, the board tumbling and falling from her sweaty, slippery hands.

Clara was exhausted and pale, a shadow of herself. Lying on the bare floors of her living room with her eyes focused on the ceiling, she discovered how blurry her vision had become, her eyes unable to appreciate the uniqueness of the state of the art interior decor which she had always admired.

Her head pounded with the weight of the responsibility she would have to bear for her actions and her heart ached for the loss of something that had never existed.

It was more painful than when her four year relationship with Dane had ended, and it had nothing to do with the fact that she was without a home and career this time, but that this had been deeper for her. Perhaps it was the illusion she had created in her mind, but without knowing it, she had hoped that Andre would somehow come around.

Even against ever