Altitude Sickness E-Book

Melanie Zipperer

• Herausgeber: Aquensis Verlag Pressebüro Baden-Baden GmbH
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2013

Seitenzahl: 301

Beschreibung

The elevator shudders and lurches to a sudden stop - trapping an unhappy couple and a stranger. Can the subtle flirtation that started between the woman and the stranger continue in the dark? Then she feels his hand on her arm … Eight stories, each a variation on the love-triangle. Whether in an elevator or a concert hall, in Paris or New York, there is a moment when the deadening monotony of a relationship is swept aside, the fog clears and a vision emerges of an alluring peak - almost within reach. From then on nothing is the same. Can the Gordian Knot of love, lust, conflict and morality be cut? Each story crackles with passion and intricate feelings.

Leseprobe

Melanie Zipperer

ALTITUDE SICKNESS

Love Stories

AQUENSIS®

Table of Content

Cover

Titlepage

After the Break-up

Altitude Sickness

Notturno

Letters to My Wife

Faust’s Valentine

Beginning of the Season

The Intruder

The Fortune Teller

Dog Day Morning

Thanksgiving

Copyright

After the Break-up

I wasn‘t sure

whether I loved

the one dwelling withinyou

or another one

invented by me.

I wasn‘t sure.

But of one thing

was I sure: that your lovesustained me

and fulfilled me

and consumed me.

Jorge Eduardo Arellano

Altitude Sickness

“Geez, this is taking forever!” Michael glanced at his wristwatch again. Barely a half-minute had elapsed since the last time he had looked.

“Don’t be so impatient. You do see that the elevator couldn’t possibly be here yet.” With a wave of her hand, her red-polished nails flashing like five spotlights in the air, Betsy pointed to the long row of numbers above the closed elevator doors. The number 21 was glowing green.

“We’re going to be late,” he grumbled, turning to cast a worried look across the hotel lobby. “The show starts at seven. If only you hadn’t spent so much time in the damned shoe store. …”

“We’ve got enough time.” Outwardly, Betsy seemed calm. But it was a struggle to ignore the reproach in his tone.

She let an unwieldy shopping bag slip from her shoulder and held it out proudly. “Everything half-off. It was worth it.”

“It’s Friday evening,” Michael said, unmoved. “There are no cabs anywhere. It’s always the same with you. We’re always late, everywhere we go.” He sighed disapprovingly, much louder, she thought, than her shopping detour deserved.

“These are normally $450. You can’t pass up a bargain like that,” Betsy said. She looked up again. Number 18 was now glowing green.

“These ridiculous fashion fads,” he said. His eyes were fixed on the Number 18. “My shoes never cost more than $80.”

“Yeah, they look it, too” she said drily, glancing down. He wore round-toed loafers so he could slip them on in the morning without having to bend down to tie the laces. His sad, worn heels turned her stomach. The fact was, he was a lot like his shoes: comfortable, cheap and nondescript. Already she sensed her confident show of patience giving way to a deeper bitterness. A bitterness about him and her life with him, a bitterness that had grown slowly over the years, eating steadily away at her, a feeling which, despite all the talk and effort and fresh starts, could no longer be ignored.

If she didn’t stop, the evening would quickly end up being a fiasco like the night before. Sometimes Betsy managed to simply choke back the feeling. But it was always there somewhere, and with it the constant potential for even the most routine husband-wife exchange to degenerate into an endless, exhausting war of words. She swallowed and reached her arm across the bag that held the shoes.