When I came home from work the bird wasn’t singing in its cage. There were no dishes in the sink. The toilet seat was down. The note, unread, still laid out on the bedside table. My husband, nowhere to be found.
Just as it’d been for the past three weeks.
Couri Johnson is currently enrolled in the NeoMFA. In her spare time she works as head of YSU’s literary magazine, Jenny
, and alternates between stomach and back while laying on her couch.
Everything smelled like her. Blankets, clothes, furniture… Even the yard seemed, in a way, to carry her.
He expected to hear her laugh at all times, and turning the corner, to see her. But that is the way that all fathers feel, and the law always sides with the mother.
Born and raised in PA, Kevin loves autumn, undergrad courses, and his three dogs: Nikki, Mika, and Star. One of his dogs is a male. He also enjoys beer. Read more of his writing at http://flashaday.blogspot.com.
“You’re home. Dinner’s on the counter. The kids have been a nightmare.”
His eyes move past me, his keys slide across the cold granite. He finds a plate, and walks to his office. The screen’s glow illuminates the man I once knew, now silent.
I close the door.
Delancey Stewart is a fiction writer living in Southern Maryland. When no indulging her imagination, she works for the man as a tech writer and tends two small boys who, her husband assures her, are hers. Find her at http://delanceystewart.wordpress.com.