If you don't have the time to read, you don't have the time or the tools to write - Stephen King, On Writing, p. 147
Maisy had been a virtual recluse since 'The Comment'., which had taken on capitalised status in her mind and consumed her every waking moment. Consumed was an unfortunate choice of words as Derek's throwaway line had concerned her weight.
She looked at herself in the mirror, smoothed her skirt over her ample hips and a slow smile tilted her lips as she heard a warble from her laptop. She opened her email and there was Derek trying to cajole her into meeting with him, to give him a chance to explain.
“You can explain my dear” she grinned as she replied, asking him over for a meal that evening.
The minute he stepped through the door he started apologising.
“Maisy, I’m so sorry, you have to forgive me. I miss you so much. Take me back.”
“Let’s drink to it” she answered, offering him the glass of punch she had prepared earlier.
She managed to keep a rein on her temper as he patted her behind and winked.
“What’s a few extra pounds huh? More to love right?”
She watched silently as his eyes glazed and he simply crumpled to the floor. The internet was indeed a wonderful resource, a myriad ways to slaughter an animal without ruining the meat, at her fingertips. She sat down to enjoy her supper, savoured a few bites of Croupe d'amant rôti and sighed contentedly.
“I always did love having you inside of me Derek.”