The Enmity

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's a story about the end of a relationship.

Submitted: July 16, 2016

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Submitted: July 16, 2016

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The Enmity
 
He heard her come through the back kitchen door. His heart skipped a beat as he froze in mid bite over a plate of day old take-out chow mien. The sound of the “Daily Double” alarm far off but only six and a half feet from his TV tray.
 'Did she sound pissed?' he thought. 
You know how you can tell the mood of a lover just by the sounds they make even from another room? Bob hoped she wasn’t. It had been four days and he was pretty sure things would be cool again. 'Hey' he thought 'Why shouldn’t everything be cool? It was a fight. A heated discussion. So it may have escalated a bit. So what? Lovers fight. Right?' He’d been telling himself this all weekend. Meanwhile dishes were piling up, the washer machine was buried in dirty jeans, sweat stained t-shirts and smelly undies. 
It was too quiet in the kitchen. 
'What was she doing?' he thought.
 Then he heard the dishwasher open and… SLAM, close again.
Bob swallowed his half chewed bite of salty noodles when he heard her scoot the kitchen table chair in slowly. He winced.
'Damn!' he thought 
'She hates it when I leave it out.' 
He listened to her slow deliberate steps through the kitchen and towards the door. Bob girds his loins. Braced for what’s to come next, he raises the remote and turns Jeopardy down then moves his tray to the side.
Annie comes through the kitchen door with unnatural speed, butcher knife held high.
 'Yep, she’s still pissed.' Bob thought as he hefted his .357 mag and put three slugs in the middle of her chest. 
'She just won’t let things go.' Bob thought.
Ten minutes later Bob crushed out a camel in an old ashtray he normally kept on the porch, because Annie didn’t let him smoke in the house. Now he stood over her. He studied her features with a disconnected curiosity. He noted the lack of blood on her blouse and on the floor around her. Admiring his grouping, he lipped another camel from his soft pack and lit it absently, letting the end smoke sting his right eye before turning his head. Bob spit out a loose piece of tobacco, stepped the rest of the way over her body and headed for the kitchen. 
'It’s Miller Time.' he thought and let out a little chuckle.
Bob pulled out the floral patterned vinyl covered  chrome tube-frame chair at the kitchen table, his favorite, and plopped his butt down and cracked another cold one. He slurped the run over foam from the crotch of his right hand. Something she hated and just another thing she would nag about. 
Bob had to re-evaluate his relationship right then and there.
'Where was this going?' he thought
and 
'Where do I see myself in 5 years?' Well, apparently "NOT WITH HER" he said out loud with a smart-ass chuckle. 
Bob needed to set new goals. Annie really had been good for him (for a time). But he had to admit things didn’t always stay the same. Situations change. Feelings change. 
“Look” 
he said out loud 
“ Annie, I think we should see other people.” 
There. That felt good saying it out loud, even if it was really aimed at the crazy cat clock on the kitchen wall. 
'The point is' he thought 'they both knew this day was coming, right?'
 Their arguments had become more frequent and less forgiving and frankly he thought... 'She keeps trying to kill me.'
Bob found himself two hours later in the backyard for the second time in four days. Out of smokes, out of beer and out of patience. He tossed the short handled shovel to the side and with a ragged breath said 
“Annie, I wanna divorce.”
 
Bob needed a cold brew and a warm woman for a change. 'Who knew Zombies held grudges?' shrugging, Bob thought 'Why am I always attracted to bad girls?'
 then 
"Maybe I’ll marry a vampire next time." he said, and then wondering what bar they hung out in.


© Copyright 2017 R.Guy Barringer. All rights reserved.

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