By Tim Boiteau
The moment That Word escaped his lips, his stomach lurched, the kitchen tilting.
She started collecting pieces of the broken bowl off the linoleum.
Maybe That Word had flown past her ears. Maybe she misheard what he’d said as runt.
Otherwise, That Word would wedge itself permanently between them: on the couch, gorging on their kettle corn, guzzling their beer; curled up on their bed, carving a depression in the mattress.
She kept gathering the knife-like shards.
“Honey?” he asked, touching her tense shoulder.
Then he noticed her ear: The Word coiled up inside, muffling anything else he had to say.
I love the way you were able to clearly show the emotions of both people in so few words. This is an impressive and captivating story.
Interesting. I wonder if the bowl was dropped or thrown.
An evocative story with sharp metaphors and an excellent ending. You really capture how words – and even a single word – can linger, coloring everything that comes afterwards.
Your story is succinct and powerful. So much is revealed about both characters–the fact that only the narrator speaks and “she” is silent throughout. The image in the final line stays with me.
Great story! So well done!
Thanks for sharing this amazing piece with us.
A lot of powerful emotions in that story.
Really clever and thoughtful.
Oh this is good! The imagery and emotional punch, made sharper by the spare language, really got to me.
great job!!
Wow! Very powerful….illuminating how one word can infect relationships.