FirstLineFiction beta

from Contest #1

She told him with a little gesture he had never seen her use before. The message almost missed him it was so elusive. A small lifting of the hand from the arm of the chair at the wrist with a flutter of the fingers and a shift of the head as she read. There was only one interpretation.

Although stunned at first he wanted to return a message equally succinct and terrifying in its import. He wanted with a silent gesture of his own to send back his reply; to see it drill its way into her head and pry out the rusting nails there and fleck away the scab that had grown there between them. She wasn’t the only one who could speak volumes with the smallest silent motion. He sensed though that the moment of retaliation was slipping from him. If he wanted to act the time was now. He closed his mouth and then spoke.

“Coffee?”

She only gave her head the lightest shake to scream no. It seemed he no longer warranted even speech. He stood up too quickly when trying to be smooth. She was motionless still. He stumbled into the kitchen and leaned against the refrigerator to control his breathing. It had come to this at last then. He had been led to believe he was forgiven for his error. Obviously not. To err is human to forgive is out of the question. What had happened that she wasn’t letting on? Everything seemed fine over the weekend. It was quiet but it was civil. He was forgiven.

His eye drifted to her purse sitting near the knives. He just stared at it and blinked and then stopped blinking. He moved his eyes to look for her in the glass of the oven. She hadn’t moved. If he crossed the doorway of the kitchen she would wonder why. The coffee maker was on the side with the fridge. The purse and the knives were on the other.

Why are you there? he could hear her asking if he moved that way. He could get his coffee and then walk there casually. He needed a reason to move. Screwing up his courage he walked mechanically across the opening and stopped at the purse and turned. He could no longer see her in the oven. He prayed she hadn’t seen him. Why would she see him? Hasn’t he become invisible? Isn’t he scum to her now? She would no more notice him in his movements than she would notice a stranger silently walking by their apartment in the hall. He was here though. He had a right to exist. He had only made a single error. He was forgiven.

He turned slowly holding his breath and rested one hand on her purse. It lay there like a dead thing and only crushed down the soft material. He wasn’t in yet. He could be forgiven again. He hadn’t crossed a line yet. He looked down at his hand to find it buried in the purse and feeling around. His other hand hung motionless at his side. Part of him was able to convince himself that he was of two halves. One was innocent and still and not acting. The other was insidious and probing, smelling out a prey. His insidious hand crawled through the dark matter and his innocent hand twitched a little as if in reflex to the others movements. He raised his innocent hand to rest on the counter in hopes that the weight of his arm against it would keep it still and not involved. He other hand burrowed and scurried.

A cool elongated surface came into his hunting palm. His hand froze and processed the surface without movement. The coolness receded to warmth as he waited. He knew what this was.

back to Contest #1