Julia's swinging her feet nervously, under the table and imagining oceans, there to catch her. It's somehow easier to deal with things if there's the possibility of sliding down under the table and getting away. Being free of him, being free of Mr Andrews, being free of them all.
She can escape, but she does not. Baby steps. Fear of lightning, so she doesn't look into his eyes, although he wishes she would.
And Julia – well, she wishes she could ask why he called her here but it would be all so...pointless. They know why they're here, both of them. They know exactly what this is.
'You know,' he breaks the silence, 'I've been thinking about this ever since you opened the door.'
'All those months ago, when you first opened your door, I knew. Didn't you feel it?'
Slowly, she shakes her head this way and that. No, she did not feel anything for this apparent stranger. She cannot feel things. For a man, how preposterous is that. How wrong to want...
'I really shouldn't be here.'
He laughs. 'Why?' He knew she'd say this.
'This is improper, Mr Andrews.'
'Steven, please. We are after all, the same age.'
Blood trickles and then rises and Julia feels a mounting rage boiling up through every vein of her body. 'Even so, Mr Andrews,' she articulates every word, 'you cannot act like this. You come into my house, into my room and you...you...'
'I leave a note? What's the matter, Julia? Has no one left you a note before?'
Her feet are swinging rapidly now, one way and then the other. And she can't feel the ocean there, anymore.
'My name, sir, is Mrs Epson and I would very much appreciate it if you would use it.'
He can't help laughing, although he knows he'll anger her. Steven Andrews bites down on his lower lip and stares up at her. He's trying not to let his surprise slip through his eyes. 'Mrs? Are you married?'
No. No, she's not married. Mrs Epson was her mother. And Mrs Epson is dead. She is Miss Epson. There will never be another Mrs Epson. Never, so she shakes her head and looks away.
Mr Andrews hunts for her eyes, trying to snuggle himself in there. She is so..childish, so unlike the women he's known before. So unlike him. Yet, it's not just innocence, she's not what he initially thought. She's not a child.
There's something mysterious, something dark in her eyes. And he likes it. He wants it.
And on the other side of the table, Julia's thinking back to an old house, her house, and her mother. The old Mrs Epson, screaming and wagging her finger at the little woman on the couch, swinging her feet, because that's all she can do to escape her mother's wrath.
'You will never see him again,do you hear? Don't look at me like that, girl. Hide your eyes, for I see sin in them, I see the Devil in you, child. I see the Devil!'
All because her sinful eyes, her damned eyes. This is it, she thinks, as her feet stop swinging and the ocean opens up and swallows her whole.
Finally, she looks up at the man at the table and closing her sinful eyes, she whispers, 'I've been thinking about this, too.'
Today's prompt was 'swing'. If you'd like to find more awesome freewrites, check out the @freewritehouse and if you'd like to try freewriting yourself, head on over to @mariannewest's blog!
Thank you for reading,