In the kitchen, he asked, “Has it been a good life?”
Such a profound question. It’s forty years together. Betrayals, indifference, hot burning anger, flashes of joy, perfunctory kisses.
“Not really,” I say. It’s a revelation.
“Get your hearing checked,” he shouts. “I asked, have you seen the good knife?”
Brenda is a retired university administrator. Someday she will finish writing the Great American Novel, and it will be Great, and her family will say, “Finally! Thank goodness.”
Stanley lay dead on the floor.
“I’m a mantis,” she said, “You knew that from the start. What did you expect?”
Somehow, she always thought her lovers would be sweeter than they were. Stanley, especially, had been unsatisfying. She checked her breath and hoped the babies would look like her.
Brenda is a retired university administrator who tends to write with her laptop balanced precariously across her knees. She recently decided to teach herself how to crochet. So far, she has produced a lot of sweaty little knots.