Milk
by Ann Rushton
When he smashed his plate in my lap, the dog hung around, licking my wrist and hoping that he would get some milk, too. With my luck, he'd jump in the pool, getting grass clippings all over the edge. My nails were sharp that day, I had to cut them, and I did while watching The Unit, only paying attention to the redhead. After our fight my boyfriend broke his hand. Luckily the hotel room was air-conditioned. It had a little deck off the side but it was too hot to sit out there, plus the security truck would come by all the time with its flashing lights. My boyfriend was looking for a furnished apartment; he wanted it to snap with color. I was on the edge as it was, and after we argued I just stood in the parking lot. He gave me a little wave of his hat as he drove away, and I was glad I no longer had to share my pizza crust with him.
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"My boyfriend was looking for a furnished apartment; he wanted it to snap with color."
great flash Ann. Love the end.
That last line makes the whole piece.
I love the voice. The details are so sharp!
there's a wonderful play of jagged things throughout this...smashed plates, sharp nails, blade cut grass and the one that (i agree with Susan) ties it together...left over pizza crust..anything cozy, domestic, intimate thrown over like that unnamed glass of milk *
I really like this sad, sharp edged story and felt for your narrator.
I love the juxtapositions, the way the entire story is told right here: "After our fight my boyfriend broke his hand. Luckily the hotel room was air-conditioned."