Water boiled in the blue enameled pot. The man busied about the kitchen, a flurry of capability. A cake grew golden in the oven. Browning sugar sweetened the room.
From the breakfast nook in the corner of the room, the woman watched his movements. Her beer turned warm in the bottle. The leaves fell from the half-dead oak in the backyard.
Did you put the laundry into the dryer? The question came from him mid-flurry. He took a cleaver from the wood knife block and began dismembering a raw chicken.
And did you take out the garbage?
Were you planning on taking out the garbage?
It’s on my list.
He ignored her, tore the wings from the carcass, trimmed the excess fat.
She went outside via the back door. The air still and crisp. A whiff of sweet rot from the compost bin. She dragged the garbage to the curb and stood beside the hedge in front of the house watching him dump the chicken parts into a pot on the stove. Steam rose, wreathing his face, as the flesh hit the oil. He was smiling.
She reentered the kitchen via the… Read more »