Hills like White Elephants: Pastiche

by OWAIN GLYN EVANS

The shade provided little relief for her as she placed herself down by the table, immediately uncomfortable and unnerved. Knowing it would be forty minutes until her train arrived she happily agreed to nullify the awkwardness, of both her seat and her situation, by discussing drinks with her lover who sat opposite.

The unnatural discussion over, she took to admiring the landscape beyond them. It was a task she took to with some trouble.

She could have noticed the line of hills on the horizon, white in the sun but otherwise brown and dry, or indeed the woman who began serving their drinks in silence. But she found herself once again with hands to bump, thinking about the life growing inside her, and of her own life simultaneously falling apart.

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