A Short Short Storyby Brandon Hobson
TONIGHT I’M STANDING in the bathroom, in my nightgown, scrubbing my false teeth with a toothbrush. I have taken my liquid green medicine from the plastic cup on the sink, along with my two aspirin and Geritol. My husband, L.D., has already gone to bed. We’ve been married forty-three years now, and our marriage is steady, calm, silent. I attend church every Sunday morning, have given my life to God and to the love of my family, but the spice in my marriage has become as dry and flat as this house.
L.D. and I are both retired. I was a dance instructor. L.D. worked maintenance for Pine Creek Golf Course, where for thirty years he mowed fairways and fertilized greens. Now he spends his afternoons either fishing with our grandson, Dylan, or helping me tend the garden in the backyard. I mostly stay in the house all day and watch my soap opera or clean the vegetables L.D. brings in so we can eat them for supper. Our doctor has provided us with a schedule to help us maintain a low-cholesterol diet: no red meat, nothing fried, plenty of vegetables.