WRITING PROMPT NO. 229
“I think we should do this one,” said Kirstie.
Michael lay stretched out on the sofa, eyes closed, breathing deep. In through his nostrils, out through his mouth. Every out breath making a small puff.
“Oh for God’s sake,” she said. “Michael? Michael? It’s eleven o’clock in the morning. You can’t be tired. We haven’t done anything yet.”
Kirstie prodded Michael in the arm.
“C’ mon,” she said.
“I’m on holiday,” said Michael grumbling as saliva gathered in the corners of his mouth.
Kirstie picked up her mug of coffee in frustration and the warm liquid swooshed over her hand.
“Well, I’m going. You do what you want.” She took a large mouthful of coffee and swallowed it down with a loud gulp. “Mum’ll be here at two,” she said. “I’ll be back by then.”
Michael shrugged his shoulders and shifted a little on the cushions. Kirstie stood in the doorway. She glanced to her left and her hand reached out to the knife block. She gripped the nearest handle, the heavy meat cleaver, and studied her reflection in the blade’s surface.
“Not today,” she said to herself and slipped the blade back into place.
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