By Gerald Kamens
“This is hard work,” said her sweating husband, digging a grave for her cat in their backyard. “Squirt some gin in that lemonade!”
When Martha came out of the kitchen, carrying the glass, Fred was slumped over the pickax. Not breathing. She took the pulse in his right wrist, hanging down in the half-finished grave. In her ER work, she’d taken many pulses.
Knowing he was dead, she walked slowly back to the kitchen—her customary feeling of loneliness replaced by one of being adrift in the world’s ocean. Finally, although she realized it wasn’t an emergency, she punched in 911.
I liked the phrase “her customary feeling of loneliness replaced by one of being adrift in the world’s ocean” because it says a lot in a few words.
I enjoyed this scene. I look forward to reading what next this writer shares.
That last sentence snaps it all into place. Difficult story to write, I’m sure, and very potent.
I could feel that moment of deliberation. Good story.
Wonderful use of sensory words.
What? The husbands death seems rather sudden. Did he have sunstroke? This was a great effort for 101 words, though.
Whoa!