The last supper
Sandy squints his eyes at her:
“Magnolia, you are a piece of work.”
“You think?”
The previous evening he’d found a slice of pepperoni pizza left on the porch and their airtight bin wide open by the driveway. It was pure luck the bears hadn’t paid a lethal visit. It didn’t stop there; she’d also left the gas on the other day. If Sandy hadn’t noticed the smell he might have blown himself up. He was happy to have been home alone. He didn’t want any outsiders to get in harms way.
“You have to pay more attention! I could’ve died. It’s wilderness out here for God’s sake.”
”But you lived,” Magnolia says, slowly turning to Sandy who stands with his back to the wide bay window through which can be seen pine forests climbing the mountain behind their luxurious log cabin.
Sandy has been observing her intensely. His fist tightens until his knuckles show bone. Magnolia wets her lips, returns his stare and registers how he quivers. She touches the swollen bruise on her cheek she has tried to hide with makeup and takes a nervous breath. Her broken nose peeps faintly. Doctors have never been able to fix it.
And then Magnolia’s eyes turn to black stones you can find on the seashore, polished and glossy. Her gaze has captured a single dark car flashing through the trees as it crawls up from the valley. The hill is knife-edge steep and the road serpentine with many deep curves. Her sullen face lightens up like the sun surfacing on a cloudy day. She could cut the brake line of his car.
She fires a wide smile at Sandy that makes him relax and open his fists.
“Would you like some supper, Darling?”
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This is my first attepmt to do some prose here, flash fiction so to say.
