A Crazy Scream

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: Booksie Classic
Another example of why men don't understand women...

Submitted: March 15, 2015

A A A | A A A

Submitted: March 15, 2015



"You ever feel like screaming?"

I continue to dry the mustard yellow platter and answer without thinking. 

"Yeah, all the time."

"How about now? Feel like screaming now?"

I put the platter in the sage green plastic strainer and stare at her for a moment.

"Uh, no. Why are you asking me this?"

She looks at me with her brown eyes, round with puzzlement. 

"Why wouldn't I ask that?"

I throw the hand towel over my shoulder and face her.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

She furrows her brow as if she's concentrating deeply. She even takes a step back, crosses her arms, tilts her head and arches her eyebrows. I suddenly begin to feel guilty, as if I should know exactly why she's asking me such a question. I keep waiting for her to enlighten me, or maybe start complaining about a severe migraine, which would help to explain her bizarre behavior. But, she remains in the same position, waiting for me. 

Hot anger begins to rise into my chest. I pop the knuckles in both thumbs. She hates that. She must know it's intentional. I wait, expecting her to blow. Nothing. I tilt my head to each shoulder in quick succession, hearing a muffled pop each time. I look at her with slit eyes. Still nothing. In exasperation, I toss my hands up and leave them hanging in the air. I know my face is asking a desperate question, but she remains silent.

I close my eyes and fight it. Even with my eyelids closed tightly, I can visualize her smirking at me. I relent. With both fists clenched and my eyes still closed, I let go of a massive scream. My fists shake, as does my voice. I feel my face redden and the tendons in my neck tighten with the strain of such an all-encompassing release. 

I open my eyes, seeing dark spots fizzing away from my vision. She's not there. I turn my head from side to side, looking for her. My breathing is rapid and loud. The hairs on my neck stand up a split second before she wraps her arms around me from behind. I can feel her cool skin, she's always cold, through my t-shirt. I feel her breasts on my back as she leans into me, her breath warm and moist on my neck. A chill crawls down my spine.

She whispers into my ear, "Feel better?"

I roll my eyes down and glimpse her ash blonde hair with my peripheral vision. 

"I felt fine before."

"I know. But how do you feel now?"

"Tired and confused."

"Annoying isn't it?"

My breathing finally begins to calm down. A suspicious thought enters my mind, but I answer her anyway.

"Yes. It is."

She stays silent, waiting.

I close my eyes and let out a noisy sigh.

"Okay. I get it."

With her mouth still on my neck, I feel her smile. 

"Get what, honey?"

I exhale and roll my tongue over my teeth and behind my upper lip and look out the window. At last, I turn and face her, looking down at her. Seeing her shining eyes and flushed face, I know she's been enjoying this. 

"I won't assume you know what I'm talking about when I talk about work. Is that what you want to hear?"

She gives me a half smile. "Actually, no. I just wanted to see if I could still drive you crazy." 


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