The Death of a Coat
From the “Portraits and Landscapes” short story collection
It’s my turn to get the breakfast. A large yellow melon. It’s very symmetrical and as I observe it closely, I begin to notice all the little green lines running down the sides. I am frightened to mark it, of cutting things. The knife hangs poised for a long time glittering over the center. It goes in easily. I thought this would be more difficult. I cut again making a boat-shaped piece that slots easily into my hand. Now to scrape off the seeds, but I don’t want to lose the sweet center. Those pointed caramel bits falling into the garbage mesmerize me. At last, it’s ready.
The seeds cling more firmly to the next piece. Some of the center is lost, and I’m unhappy. It hurts like an imperfect story which everyone admires; they don’t understand how much it irritates you every time you look at smudged words.
He comes out from the shower with wet hair, and his lips are cool against my neck like a walking ice cream. He sits down and eats. He doesn’t know how difficult I find it to present him with such perfection. Even with the coffee I’m careful to put just the right amount into the coffee maker, he has this ability to detect my tiniest mistakes. A grain or so more shouldn’t make a difference to our relationship, but sometimes it will surround him with an aura of displeasure. I can tell whether he finds the coffee good by his smile, his lips stretch a little wider when he’s pleased with me.
Please leave me a note if you want to read more of this story.
https://medium.com/nanowrimo/sniper-vs-sniper-intelligent-but-savage-72870f9125c5
