A HAUNTING IMAGE▕ @terribletoxins
Isabel knows the footsteps approaching her like she knows her own heartbeat. She might have expected this, this undesired meeting, if she hadn’t been so sure that the woman hunting her was distracted. Frightened, too; the lot is damp, dark, and easily avoided by every other woman who has passed since Isabel arrived. She drops her cigarette and crushes it with the toe of her boot, extinguishing the small ember with a hiss, because she will be damned if Mrs. Hartmann sees any of the vices she has picked up in previous years.
Evidence enough exists in the missing half of her face.
“Bringing toddlers to conferences now, are we?” she asks, tone lacking bite. No, she was defeated by this particular woman long ago. “How is she, little… Klara, is it?”
It has been four years since she saw the other, but upon first look, she knows that it could have been twenty and Isabel’s silhouette would still have been able to steal her breath away. There is more than a surname between them now, more than a simple ring, and yet her hands brush against stomach, telling herself it is to ward off the cold against woolen coat; but rather reminiscing about a pregnancy that determined her ultimate breakaway from the brunette.
❝ I was hoping you’d come. ❞ Confessing, she releases a breath and steps out of the shadows; having no need for the shadowplay. ❝ Klara is fond of sleeping through the night. Her nanny’s inside. ❞ Despite the cruelty of such happiness, she shares a fond smile at the mention of the small girl. It falls soon at the tragedy between them.
Does Isabel know? She’d left the crowd soon after Johanna had taken the stage to explain findings. ❝ She likes listening. She was listening to your lecture. We both were. ❞
