I wrote this very short piece ‘The Last Day’ some years ago. Today it seems more relevant than ever. The Last Day He seemed to take forever to get ready. He kept yelling, as usual.“When will you ever learn to fry an egg? Useless woman!”“How many times have I to teach you how to fold a d*** shirt?Today, I was so tempted to answer back. But I bit my tongue. I knew it was my last day there.At last, he left.When his car was out of sight, I turned on the gas, took my bag and shut the door behind…
The End is written in response to a prompt from a Facebook Writing Group called GBE2. Here’s what the prompt read:We’d like you to write the ending of a fictional story, but NOT the beginning or the middle. Jump in to your piece somewhere right near where everything gets wrapped up and then take us to the end. How she laughed looking at that picture! How silly he looked in that white tux with a big red bow tie! If anything, the picture went to prove how mismatched they had been. She would never have condescended to stand next to…
He seemed to take forever to get ready. He kept yelling, as usual. “When will you ever learn to fry an egg? Useless woman!” “How many times have I to teach you how to fold a d*** shirt? Today, I was so tempted to answer back. But I bit my tongue. I knew it was my last day there. At last, he left. When his car was out of sight, I turned on the gas, took my bag and shut the door behind me. A creature of habit, the moment he got into the house, he would light a cigarette!…