short fiction

The Girl: As Observed from Inside the Refrigerator

Day One: Been empty over a week. Turned to Cold, stinks like Clorox. Hear girl’s voice, she’ll be the one, but it’s dark.

Day Two: Lights on. Girl hefts case of Miller Lite on the bottom shelf, slides it in, grit from floor now on cardboard case, screeches on glass shelf. Later, beer joined by two slices of pepperoni in grease-stained Luigi’s box.

Day Three: Lights on. Holding door open with foot. Then, carton of eggs, gallon of milk, Coca-Cola. Is taking forever. Open, closed, open, closed. Then, chocolate diet shakes, fat free yogurt. Veggies – celery, carrots, cherry tomatoes. Something gross, comes in brick form. Weird.

Day Three/Four: Lights on, dark kitchen. Grabs Coca-Cola, wearing flannel pants.

Day Eleven: Lights on, grabs last chocolate diet shake. Celery smells rancid. Weird brick never used, starting to ooze.

Day Twelve: Milk expired, didn’t drink past handle.

Day Fifteen: Lights on, dark kitchen. Grabs Coca-Cola, wearing flannel pants.

Day Ninety-Five: Lights on, Chinese take-out leftovers. Hear guy’s voice. Later, TV blaring, Chinese eaten.

Day One-Hundred-Two: Lights on, leftover Reuben and fries. Hear guy’s voice. Later, radio blaring, grabs Reuben from container, fries spill, left two dead under Crisper drawer.

Day One-Hundred-Nine: Lights on, leftover Shrimp Scampi. Hear guy’s voice. Later, smiling, grabs Coca-Cola. Later, smiling, grabs Scampi.

Day One-Hundred-Ten: Lights on, naked, grabs cheese. Lights on, adds 7 eggs & half-drunk orange juice. Lights on, adds slimy opened bacon pack. Later, flannel pants, grabs Coca-Cola.

Day One-Hundred-Eighteen: Lights on, he grabs Coca-Cola.

Day Two-Hundred-Six: Lights on forever, tossed all food. Found dead fries. Wiped shelves. Left one Coca-Cola, jar of pickles.

Day Two-Hundred-Seven: Lights on, shopping trip. Lots of frozen food. Can’t tell.

Day Two-Hundred-Fifty-One: Lights on, leftover pepperoni from Luigi’s, garlic bread.

Day Two-Hundred-Fifty-Two: Lights on, takes bite of garlic bread, puts back.

Day Two-Hundred-Sixty: Lights on, leftover fried chicken, eats piece while putting away.

Day Two-Hundred-Ninety-One: Lights on, shoots Reddi-Whip in mouth, puts back.

Day Three-Hundred: Lights on, shopping trip. More chocolate diet shakes. More veggies. Diet Coke. No weird brick.

Day Three-Hundred-Eight: Lights on, he adds Coca-Cola.

Day Three-Hundred-Fifteen: Lights on, she grabs Diet Coke.

Day Three-Hundred-Sixty-Four: Lights on, tosses everything. Wipes shelves. Wipes light. Looks closely at light. Later, he wipes
shelves again.

Day Three-Hundred-Sixty-Five. Dark. All day.

98 x 98 Challenge: Hot & Cold

Microfiction Challenge: 100 words or less

I wanted to write a microfiction piece to submit to Microfiction Monday (yesterday…) and had the idea of using the word cold, because, honestly, it’s literally freezing in Wisconsin! When I finished, I felt like I only told half of a story, so I added “Hot.” I’m curious which is better, or if anyone else is up to the challenge!

Cold

“I’m cold,” he said. He crooked his elbow around my arms—dug his hand between my breasts. He twined his leg over my knee and tucked his heel under my ankle. His face he buried deep in my hair except for his noisy right nostril. His torso pressed skin to skin on my back. I sniffed loudly and shifted my weight. My shoulders pinched in, my arm dangled off the bed, and my head tilted up over his arm, layered with my pillow. I rested, still. He matched my breathing, exhaling warm on the back of my neck.

Hot

“I’m hot,” I said. He pressed the back of his hand to my forehead, shaking off his fingers in mocking as though he’d been burned. My feet and palms were clammy and damp, my sheets and t-shirt and hair clung to my skin. My brain stung and swelled in my skull, my nerves in knots behind my eyes, my limbs heavy and stiff about me. I kicked my comforter, flipped my pillow, rolled over. He brought me a cold glass of water. I sent two chilled gulps down my throat, drenching my dry mouth and cooling my chest.