The anger bubbled beneath my knuckles, ready to reach boiling point and burst through the thin pot lid of constraint that was struggling to stay shut. With my fists clenched and fingers digging towards crimson gold I struggled to keep a composed face.
“Say that again” I said through gritted teeth. “Say that again, I dare you.”
I stood as rigid as a wooden plank. Muscles beginning to shake in effort to contain the utter betrayal and frustration I felt. Months that felt like decades of waiting had passed. My hope, now turning into bitter resentment, slowly dwindled away as the anger set in. Their promise was shattering like glass around me, and I could feel the shards digging into my skin, taunting me with their pain. As she said the words I was dreading to hear, I could swear I heard a wisp of laughter in the distance.
“Season 4 of Sherlock has been delayed another year.”
The last line as it was completely unexpected but very humorous.
Amused and surprised.
What kind of mood were you in while writing this piece?