She stood at the sink stabbing that big old potato; her tears dripping into the muddy dishwater as she thought about her life.
He sat watching the TV in their living room. He seemed to be tattooed to the sofa, for the little movement he ever made to leave it.
“Yes! Goal,” he shouted suddenly.
His high pitched shriek grated on Jacky’s nerves.
“Hey Jacky. They’ve scored,” he continued ecstatically.
“Lucky them,” she mumbled in return.
She plopped the last potato in with the others already drowning in the large metal pot on the cooker.
“Bring us a beer. I’m parched,” he yelled again.
Jacky headed mechanically for the fridge. In twenty five years, she’d done this a million times. She didn’t need to think about it after living with a couch potato; with less life than those boiling in the pot.
“What’s taking you so long?” he boomed once more. “Didn’t you hear me? I said I’m parched!”
She poured the beer into the tall flutelike glass, leaving enough froth to ensure a white moustache on his upper lip – just how he liked it. She moved numbly into the living room and handed it to him, waiting for a sign she existed. Nothing. His eyes were fixed on the football match, still in full swing.
Jacky walked back into the kitchen.
“Beer’s too warm,” he shouted again. “Is dinner ready yet?”
She didn’t answer. She slid her hand into the pocket of her flowered apron and pulled out the small green bottle. She read the instructions on the yellow label Guaranteed to bring romance back into your life. She smiled as she mixed the new ingredient into the gravy. “All in good time, my love. All in good time!”
A micro fiction piece…. with a twist. Any feedback would be much appreciated!