Breaking Breakfast

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  House: Booksie Classic
First shot at writing a short story. A tale of a married couple with very obvious marriage difficulties which get very tense over breakfast every morning.

Enjoy - please let me know what you think as I'm eager to learn.

Submitted: September 05, 2012

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Submitted: September 05, 2012

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Cheryl glared up at Mike as he placed her plate in front of her. She tried her hardest not to make eye contact with her husband of 5 years as he moved the knife and fork closer to her seated body but inevitably their eyes met before he turned around and gently back walked to the kitchen.

It had just turned 8am as Cheryl picked up her knife and fork, carefully assessing the Lincolnshire sausage, fried eggs, bacon and beans that Mike had offered her; she tenderly pressed her fork against the hardened skin of the plumper sausage before casting her deep green eyes over the crispy bacon. Everything was how she liked it and she hated it. She hated that the man she has resented for the half a decade has completed the task of supplying her breakfast of the highest quality. She panicked.

“There must be something wrong with this meal” she hurried around her brain, losing breath as she scrambled across the plate for even the most minimal flaw. Her eyes started to strain as she begins to double-check the sausages; flipping over the bacon and even trying to find a blemish on her fork. Nothing. There’s nothing on this plate that can possibly satisfy her detest for this man.

“Wait!” She pauses. Suddenly Cheryl’s normally flushed cheeks turn as white as the table cloth she’s eating on top of. For all the disappointment this breakfast, and 5 years of marriage, has brought her, there’s a glimmer of hope; a shining beacon above this train-wreck full of perfect breakfasts and adequate film choices. “The egg!” she screams, trying to recover her breath, “the egg! There are beans on it” she screams again, pointing towards the plate as Mike looks over from the kitchen.

And there certainly were beans on her egg. Despite the dreamy yolk of the fried egg erectly peering over the rest of the fried selection, the outer white was laden with baked beans and repugnant bean juice; the absolute breakfast faux pas. Mike looked at her with total shock, he knew that this couldn’t and wouldn’t have happened before – what has gone wrong? The room fell into silence, with only the light trickle of the tap echoing around the spacious room.

For these few minutes, Cheryl knew that Mike was not as perfect as her friends kept suggesting; she wasn’t going crazy and had a valid reason to feel the sickening sensation she felt every morning when she woke up to him. To many this wouldn’t seem like anything at all, but to Cheryl this meant, for just a few minutes, she didn’t feel insane.

Dan Charman


© Copyright 2017 Dan Charman. All rights reserved.

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