In the morning, groggy, unkempt, I descended to
the breakfast table. A generous feast was laid out
for me. My appetite, however, was dulled. Margaret
and Jack were buoyant. They asked no difficult
questions. It seemed that Father hadn’t rung. Half
of my soul was wishing that Elizabeth would call
on me. That she would explain how Bryant was just
a friend, and that I was her true love. Of course no
such thing happened. I finished my crispy rashers
of bacon in silence. Soon it would be time to pack
my meagre bag and hitch back to London. Father
would demand immediate answers. Mother would
be frantic. My soul quailed at the thought of
endless interrogations. I looked up. Margaret was
gazing kindly my way. I would have loved to stay
on, but it was impossible. The city was waiting. It
was in its smoky maw that I belonged.


Author: Robert James Berry

Poet & Novelist