Ok. So maybe the title is jumping the gun a bit... but I felt the occasion needed a little chutzpah. Deal with it. If it sucks, oh well. I'll do better next time.
That being said, I am super excited to rejoin the ranks of the #FridayFlash champions. I have missed it dearly.
Without further ado...
She focused on her hands as her husband vehemently berated her. Her fingers were long and elegant. Seriously! How hard is it? The ivory skin barely wrinkled at the knuckles. I ask you to do one thing... Clasped gently in her lap, they could have been a doll's hands, frozen in static beauty. Do you just not think?
"I'm sorry," she said. "I'll try harder." She remembered when those hands had flitted gracefully across stages all over the country, the rest of her body following suit in a whirling spectacle of pastel chenille and tulle. She recalled the days when her life meant something, when she was free of the man who stood before her bellowing about a cold cup of tea. But that's where she was. No changing it.
"The hell you will!" he spat at her. he had a stressful job, he just didn't know how to show or tell her that he cared, he really did value her presence in his life... These were the mantras she repeated to herself on a daily basis to justify her choice to stay. He really was a good man...
"Well?" He crossed his arms. "Get on it then. Brew another pot." He grabbed the paper from the coffee table and sat firmly in his armchair across the room from her.
She calmly stood from her seat and walked toward the kitchen, and just as she passed by him he added "And try not to fuck it up this time."
Twenty minutes later, she was packing her dearest possessions in a single suitcase. A taxi was on its way to pick her up.
He, on the other hand, was still in his armchair, his rough hands clutching the freshly brewed cup of tea as his heart suddenly arrested.
"No," she said aloud, "I won't fuck it up this time."
Did you participate in Friday Flash this week? Leave a link to your submission in the comments below!