Martin stares at me from the front stoop as I leave for work
in the morning. It is the same stare that
will greet me when I arrive home in the evening. This stare does not depict sorrow or fear at
seeing me leave or joy upon my return.
Instead Martin’s stare is empty. The stare says: “Do what you want; your choices
can no longer affect my life. Come, go,
laugh, cry, live, die. It makes no fucking
difference to me. Whatever.” This indifferent attitude is probably for the
best since Martin’s not so distant future includes a soak in boiling water
followed by a bleach bath.
Cory said that Martin was one of the older ones, weighing only
about 160 lbs with a 2x2 rack. I tell
Martin this is nothing to be ashamed of, that the size and proportions of a
rack are not all that matter. Martin
stares at me, “whatever.”
As Cory and I sit down to dinner, I offer a silent prayer of
thanks to Martin for his sacrifice, and I know the disembodied head on the
front stoop is staring into the twilight lit wooded front yard. Whatever.
Submitted to http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ for the week 109 challenge.
Submitted to http://www.trifectawritingchallenge.com/ for the week 109 challenge.
Haha...at first, I thought Martin was a disengaged significant other. I was confused by the boiling water and bleach bath, but found clarity when the rack came into it :)
ReplyDeleteLol Okay you confused me at first :P I thought Martin is a the type of careless husbands we found normally in our society these days ! Clever ;)
ReplyDeleteI, too, was initially confused, but loved how you write this. And I like that his name was Martin.
ReplyDeleteIs it a deer? I don't even know haha But great work.
ReplyDeleteCreepy, coldly indifferent, calculating........all signs of a good story, well told. Glad I ordered the pizza instead. :)
ReplyDelete