‘You’re such a nobody!’ he snarled, ‘Somebody like me doesn’t need to be married to a nobody like you!’
She lay down her knitting and looked at him over the top of her tortiseshell glasses. She hoped she wouldn’t lose her place as it was a devilishly difficult pattern.
‘My, my, aren’t we having an attack of the vapours today,’ she sighed. ‘Better watch it. At your age all this yelling and screaming can’t be good with your high blood pressure and all. I’d be a bit careful I would.’
She watched, fascinated, as his body spasmed and he clutched his heart. He crumpled at the knees like a ventriloquist’s dummy. Thump! His head was only millimetres from her feet. His eyes bulged, burning into hers, eyelashes fluttering. His hand groped for her slippered foot, fingers twitching, seeking somebody, anybody.
But nobody was there.
Her hands reached for her knitting, hoping she could pick up where she left off.
©Denise Covey, 2010