Domestic Bliss?

A little short story for your Wednesday morning. Enjoy

“Bloody kids!” he shook his head and slammed the front door shut.

His wife, Shannon poked her head out of the kitchen, her red ringlets sticking out around her pink face. “What now?” She signed and her head disappeared back into the kitchen.

“Those kids next door, left their bike lying across our driveway again.”

“Yes, I saw it earlier. I meant to move it before you got home.” Her voice was tired, strained but he didn’t hear it.

“Great! Not only did I get out of the car twice for nothing, it could have all been avoided.”

“Yes,” she said again, her voice was becoming faint as she moved further into the house.

“Next time move the thing, or I’ll run it over.” He opened the fridge door, rattling the bottles in the shelves. He looked around and waited for her to say something else. When she didn’t, he closed the fridge and looked around the kitchen.

On the stove was a pot bubbling away, the rich smell of tomatoes, and beef hit him, and his stomach growled.

“Shan? Where are you?”

“I’m in the laundry.”

“I’m hungry.” He called back.

She didn’t respond.

He went into the laundry, and slid the door back. She had her back to him folding washing.

“I said I was hungry.”

She kept folding the washing.

“I said…” he raised his voice.

She spun around, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes were wild. “I heard what you said, all you ever do is bloody talk. I’m annoyed, I’m hungry, I’m tired.”

She pushed past him. “I leave the house at the same time as you. I get home almost the same time as you, yet I have dinner on, washing done, and the house clean by the time you step in the door and start complaining about the new thing of the day that has upset your delicate temperament.”

He opened and closed his mouth.

She opened and closed the front door.

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Photo by Nick Pateman via Flickr, licensed under Creative Commons

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