Fiction

The Morning Hunt

Posted on in Fiction · Short Stories
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morning hunt-woman sitting at dinner table drawing

Maria did not like coffee but it did one thing nothing else could not, it relieved her. At this stage in her life, that was all she needed, what she had to do now was to get her husband to do the same.

Amazingly enough as soon she thought of him, he appeared. Wearing a brown overcoat, with the collar up and a blue denim jeans with torn patches in the right knee of the fabric. His eyes fixated on the door behind her leading to his escape. Wearing his rings, one of which proved that he was married to Maria, but it was only a ring to her, nothing more.

He walked around her, without an utterance she could hear his keys picked up, the creak of door as it was peered open and just as quickly was slammed shut. Maria sighed, it was an growing pressure for her just being near him and not in a good way. It was too early for him to go to work, she felt but she realized he did not felt much reason to stay around anyways.

It was hard being around Esteban after he cheated on her. She had just found out last night, even though the signs had been floating in her face for months. He was very brisk and business-like with her they stopped talking like they were used to. Always having problems and arguments with her, hell it was argument that finally made him admit it. She knew he said it just to hurt her, destroy her confidence. He said it with such pride too, the bastard.

It was one of the few times he was home early, he was never home like he was supposed to, to be with her. That was how long its been since they had…crush!, thrush! the sharp noise saved her from her own memories.

He was shifting though his workshop looking for something, quite vigorously she noted. Anyways it mattered little to her, it was a cold morning, with hot coffee to boot.

Sip

Each sip sent jolts of hot chocolate melting on her tongue, its warmth cementing reassurance that there was more warmth to come.  The kitchen seemed darker so suddenly, from where she sat Maria could peer out the window to the right of her and see obvious overcast. Such a beautiful day ruined by the impending storm.

 The coffee made her feel warm, the room brightened and shone but only for a second. The overcast still constantly omnipresent with its creeping arms, it consumed the room but never Maria. She drunk on and kept the hands at bay.

As she considered that future sip, Esteban walked in, he was looking distraught and tired, the right front of his dark swirling hair was covered in dust.  She would have laughed, but she cut her glance and continued drinking, decided her cup was more important. Hopefully, he would take a hint and avoid conversation with a volatile entity.

But as she closed her eyes to think, in the inspiration of that last sip she wondered why go all the way round the front and came back in? She would have thought he came through the back door behind her, maybe he was looking for the bicycle he had a habit of leaving out the front…

Sip

After a couple seconds of ecstasy, she looked and witnessed her husband’s strange face, he was staring at something, in her direction, she was starting to get uncomfortable. Carefully following his eyes, he was staring at something on the table, the only thing of significance to him on that table was his breakfast she would wager.

It would be strange in itself that would catch his eye, of all things. He kept staring for a couple of seconds more, Maria was really uncomfortable now, then he groaned, sequentially he looked right at Maria, she froze in anticipation and preparedness for what he was going to say.

“You made breakfast?” he asked, felt more like a bewildered statement than a question.

She lightened and was struck with a feeling of unease, which was not helped by his stare. However, she realized that it was possible that he was not expecting any, considering his betrayal.  Either that or he was hit on head by one of his tools during his exploration in his tool shed.

If the devil had not taken her before when she decided to make that breakfast, it took hold of her next statement…

“Well you are my husband, as your respected and loved wife it is my duty to make breakfast for my one and only”

Even though it could be read as a benign statement, the manner in which it was said and feelings behind it was very noticeable by her bemused husband who’s face turned into a dark scowl aimed directly at Maria.

She just kept drinking returning the stare back with just as much poison.

Esteban rose his hand, straightened his body and looked as if he was about to say something grand but gave up and let down his hand in exasperation. He looked away for a few seconds and turned slowly towards the window overlooking the pots.

“Sad it Is so dreary out” he said quite relaxed with a smile to match.

Maris uttered not a word she continued her blank stare at her husband.

He looked at her with a smirk and said slowly “Thanks”

Maria did not answer.

Esteban stared at her with a relaxed yet serious look, his hands fiddled with the chair on the other side of the table. He seemed to be not sure he wanted to sit.

Maria dropped the stare, closing her eyes and continued sipping from the cup.

“…mmm?”

She looked at the cup with a manner of depressed shock, empty.

She dropped her face on the palm of her right hand as she twirled the cup in her left. She dared staring at Esteban only to see a blank unsmiling gaze. She liked him better when he smiled at least she knew she was dealing with the devil.

She placed the cup neatly on the table, Esteban looked at her deeply with much thought and drew back the chair.

She got up at that moment taking the plate from under her and she made her way to the sink and dropped it in the corner. As she walked up to past him sitting, she shot at him a quick and vicious look only to say.

“Enjoy it.”

 If only looks could kill, but she would have to wait yet. As the hunt had only begun and she was not going to be the tiger who never wrote her story whether in ink or blood.


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