Here's something else I wrote relatively recently:
A Confession
Interior, The Kitchen, Day
The kitchen is bright and airy and middle class. Jeff, a husband and father, sits at the kitchen table wearing his car-coat and Christmas sweater. He has been crying. His friend and neighbour, Bill, sits opposite him. Bill looks at Jeff with sympathy and concern.
Jeff: (sobbing mildly) ... and it'd been a long time since we'd been, y'know ... physically intimate ... so when she came in ... dressed like that ... I thought ... I thought she wanted to ... I thought maybe she wanted to again ... you know? ... I thought it was her way of putting the spark back in ... back into things ... you know? ... we used to do things ... like, I'd bathe her ... or rub sensual oils into her soft skin ... or we'd just lie together ... you know? naked ... close ... my arms round her soft warm body ... and I just thought maybe ... she wanted that ... again ... I hoped so much ... and when she came in today, you know? In that naughty uniform ... I just ... but she didn't ... she didn't want me to touch her ...
Jeff sobbing breaks into a heavy crying jag. Bill reaches across the table and puts a hand on Jeff's arm.
Bill: Jeff ... Jeff ... Jeff ... she's your daughter Jeff ... (pause) ... look, maybe Muriel should do the school run from now on.
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