• Vol. 03
  • Chapter 09
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Blind Man’s Bluff

“Am I getting warm?” called Molly.
The small, round girl slashed through the tall, dry grass, Mickey Mouse scarf wrapped around her eyes.
“No,” laughed Kevin, crouching behind a tree a few feet away, as Molly walked in the opposite direction.
At the sound of his voice, Molly turned around, and started towards him.
Stumbling as she hooked her foot into a crooked root, Molly fell on top of Kevin, knocking the wind out of him in one sharp, high pitched gasp.
It was late in the summer; one of those days where the season gave out last of its warmth as the sun moved slowly towards the horizon, casting long shadows that stretched out in dark patches across the orange and green fields.
Molly pulled up her blindfold, glaring at Kevin.
“Liar,” she said. “I was getting close. You’re supposed to tell me when I’m getting close."
In that moment, Kevin leant in to Molly, and the two children stole their first kiss.

All Molly could see was darkness. Impatient, she tugged at the thick black fabric wrapped around her eyes. A thicker, larger, hand, scratchy with dried paint, wrapped around her own, gently untangling her fingers from the blindfold.
“Just a moment,” said Kevin. “I’m getting everything in place.”
The blindfold was itchy, restrictive, and left her feeling almost claustrophobic, trapped inside her own head. But Molly took a deep breath, and nodded. After a few more moments of clattering and grunting, the movement in the room died down.
“All right,” Kevin said. “Ready.”
Molly pulled off her blindfold.


Blind Man’s Bluff

The walls of their new bedroom had been painted a cool, light blue. Dusty bedsheets, set out to catch dripping paint, covered the floor. Specks of the same light blue covered the sheets.
A bead of sweat trickled down Kevin’s brow: he was breathing heavily, exhausted.
“So?” he asked.
She pulled him close, beaming, and pressed her hand against the paint smudged onto his cheek.
“Excellent work, husband. I love it.”

Kevin stood still in the hallway, eyes red, as Molly packed her suitcase.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice hollow, empty.
Molly continued packing, slotting the photograph of her smiling next her parents in the Lake District next to the portable radio with the red plastic cover.
Voice, trembling, Kevin spoke again.
“Please, don’t go.”
She held the Mickey Mouse scarf in her hands for a moment, running the wool between her fingers. Then, breathing in, she set it next to the phone and keys. Slamming the lid of the suitcase shut, she stood. She looked up, right into Kevin’s eyes.
“Too late,” she said.
All her life, Molly thought she had known her husband better than anyone in the world. Now, at last, she saw him.