Hello and welcome to fiction world today. This is my latest flash fiction piece. Thanks to all who stop by to read about the hour 49.
Centering the Label
Mark blinked and then blinked again, harder, trying to get his eyelids to create moisture for the dry sockets around them.
It had been 49 hours since he last slept. And his eyes were open again.
Mark opened the kitchen cupboard. It was another type of again. He checked that the labels of the soup cans were facing forwards. Chicken noodle, turkey and wild rice, vegetable beef. Next, he checked that the same varieties were stacked on top of one another. Chicken noodle on the left side of the middle shelf; vegetable beef to its right; turkey and wild rice on the furthest right side. Then the white wall of the cupboard to the right of that.
The wall. He hadn’t seen the wall coming when he was driving the car. It wasn’t as though he wanted that to happen. That.
Were the chicken noodle labels turned a little too much to the left? As Mark reached out to center the cans, his mind reached for additional questions. His soul reached for Monica.
His shaking hand knocked one of the cans and it toppled onto the countertop below. The bang of the can as it met the off-white laminate countertop was loud, and it made him jump.
He looked down at the can, now dented on its side, and cursed the moisture that came to his eyes. Now.
How had he not seen the wall? How was it that he could not get the lifeless body of Monica out of his head, folded over in the passenger side of the car?
The crash. Her body. This sudden silence. How he wished Monica had survived.
50 hours. He blinked again.