pot dragonfly cellophane ambidextrous
swirl heartless jackhammer dismissive
In the evening breeze, the flowers swayed and danced. The sunlight was fading slowly. It was the edge of day and night that William loved best. He sat in his favorite spot of the house, in his favorite chair, watching his favorite scene: the sunset. Often he had imagined that his name was actually written on the large patio chair he was nestled into. He sighed a deep breath and rested his feet on the matching wicker footstool.
From the corner of his eye, he caught a last flash of sunlight glinting off the yellow-green bulb of the dragonfly lawn ornament in the backyard. “Why does Judith insist on spending good money on these tawdry things,” he wondered aloud.
Before stepping through the French doors from the living room, his head had been pounding with the intense and steady rhythm of a jackhammer. This must be how those poor bums who suffer migraines feel, William had thought. It wasn’t long before he was considering a surprisingly large number of ways to bring the pain to an end. He settled for a gin and tonic. He was peeling the cellophane off a lime wedge when Judith saw him.
“What are you doing?!” she demanded the moment she heard the released fizz of the tonic water. “Cold turkey doesn’t mean once in a while!”
“You do it your way, and I’ll do it mine,” William had replied dismissively.
In the kitchen now, Judith bellowed like thunder. With ambidextrous skill, she flipped and stirred the contents of pots and pans. And she managed somehow to make them clatter and clang in a loud cacophony that matched her vocals.
“You bastard! You selfish, heartless bastard! You don’t live alone, you know!”
Then it happened. A too-vigorous swirl of the wooden spoon, and the roux splashed out of the pot and onto her khaki slacks.
Judith tossed down spoon, spatula, and dish towel in rage. She turned off the stove and marched upstairs. In the master bedroom, she stripped off the soiled pants and threw them into the trash bin instead of the hamper. She noticed the open French doors and headed toward them. How many times have I told him to close these? We’re going to have crickets chirping in here all night!
Then she saw William sitting comfortably in that stupid chair with the hideous orange cushions, apparently without a care in the world. Her anger too spilled over. She approached the railing already screaming at him. Then her foot tapped the flower pot at the wide space where a railing had come loose. The three-foot tall rose plant teetered and swayed. A dust devil swirled nearby, and then headed resolutely in the direction of the unsteady structure.
Judith hadn’t stopped screaming when the clay exploded from the impact with William’s skull. But it was an altogether different scream she was emitting now.