Photo by Nhu Tran: pexels.com
by Pamela Painter
You hear it, the damn car perhaps sensing it’s your getaway vehicle announces its plan to break down as the motor drops two octaves, then stops dead. Beside you the wife you no longer love, cherish or obey rouses from the slobbery slumber that allowed you to plan.
She squeals “what happened,” her question three weeks ago when you came home early from work, fired, and last week when you returned from poker night without keys or the two hundred dollars that bought you admittance to the game. Never mind Winona of the sweet floral scent whose couch harbored your keys and who promises to harbor you.
Your wife asks again, her voice rising in the night to that screechy note you can’t stand, “what’s wrong, what happened, are we out of gas? Then she reaches over to honk the horn as if to test the car’s resolve, which is clearly more determined than your own.
Pamela Painter is the award-winning author of five story collections. Her stories appear in numerous journals and anthologies, have been included in Best Microfiction, Best Short Fictions, and have received four Pushcart Prizes.
