A short story sketch by Jenny W. Andrews
Edna crumpled the receipt, flung it into the garbage can after rolling it tightly into a ball.
Harris, in his starch white button down shirt, rifled through his desk’s top drawer, and muttered, “I know I put it right here.” He clutched the key. “Nobody else has a key. I just don’t understand.”
From her perch at the top of the staircase, Edna smirked and swallowed a giggle. “Darling, is something the matter?” She called to him. The sound of his little key locking the top drawer sounded so stupidly tiny, ineffective.
“Nothing’s the matter, Edna. Nothing at all.”
By the time she reached the bottom of the stairs Harris was seated in his brown leather recliner sipping a glass of white wine.
“Oh, I thought I could have sworn I heard you muttering. You sounded a bit upset. Are you sure you’re okay?”
Harris rested his wine goblet on the glass table top next to his recliner. “You must be imagining things, Edna. I wasn’t saying anything. I’ve been sitting here reading my book.” He patted the book that he had balanced precariously on his knee.
“Probably. Yes, I was probably just imagining things.” She leaned her back against the desk.
His face as of late ceased to remind her of the man she had once loved. No, he didn’t look anything at all like the man she had once loved. Now, he just looked shifty. Yes, that was the word. Shifty. The lies he told were beginning to etch themselves throughout the contours and creases of his face. . .
Hey, everyone, thanks for reading. This is just a sketch. I wanted to write about how people (especially married couples) try to manipulate and play mind games with each other as if it is an Olympic sport.
Please leave a comment and let me know what you think.
Jenny W. Andrews copyright 2022