The cup and the sponge

She looked at the pile of cups, plates and half-used utensils that she had been ignoring for two days and felt herself die a little. “Am I the only adult with two functioning hands in this house?” she thought. “Doesn’t this bother him?” Apparently, her husband could care less and she would, once again, be the first to yield.

She put on her headphones to drown out the sound of him watching tv as she toiled away at the mess. An hour and a half later it was done. “There,” she said, “I don’t want to see another dirty dish for the next 24 hours! Good night!”

The next morning his alarm woke her up. Sulky, irritated, and no longer able to sleep, she got up and went downstairs. Her eyes immediately turn to the kitchen, where she sees a used coffee cup on the counter, inches away from the sponge that’s still soapy from her late night scrubbing. At first she sees red and then it all goes dark…

The next thing she remembered was hearing herself tell the officer “I just snapped. The sponge was right there!

 


*If you enjoyed this post, check out more of my fiction here.*

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