Friday, his favourite evening. Take-away curry, and a tv movie. He rushed through the door. ‘Honey, I’m home’ he yelled in his jokey American accent!
But something wasn’t right. There was an eerie silence but for the drip drip dripping of a tap. Their cat wandered toward him and with a mournful meow began weaving between his feet.
The sink was piled with unwashed dishes. In the bedroom, empty drawers lay open, the bed unmade. In the lounge, their wedding photo lay on the floor, glass smashed.
They’d argued over breakfast. A petty quarrel. It was nothing really. Was it?
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and Ronda Del Boccio for the picture.
Stroke Froggie to see what others are up to.